Alexander: The Boy Who Conquered the World
by Yel Ashaya
Summary: The story of Alexander's life, from birth in Pella to untimely death. Features all major events, including all battles, sieges, Alexander's contemporaries (Diogenes and Cassander accentuated), triumphs and relationships. I studied Alexander for GCSE a year ago and all media of him seemed inaccurate, so I wrote my own. Here is to Arrian and Plutarch. Please R&R. Thank you.
1. Birth

CHAPTER 1: JULY 356BC: BIRTH 2598

The news was certainly the most pleasant of news which he could have hoped for. The king thanked the tired messenger and then kicked his horse. The noble steed rode headlong through the dry deserts and abandoned plains, past the dreary villages and settlements and into the densely forested woods. He held back the reins strongly and the horse whinnied. It reared back onto its two powerful hind legs and then finally settled all four of its white-socked hooves back onto the pebbly ground.

The sight which was held before his eyes was certainly a very beautiful. It was times like this that Philip was reminded of why he enjoyed being king with so much passion. Looking over to the right, he could see that the sea was almost as blue as the magnificent sky itself. He could not help but to smile.

A man walked over to him and took the reins of his horse. The king dismounted his faithful stallion and jumped almost gracefully onto the ground. He did not even wobble in the slightest as he did so. The man who had walked over to him paid his respects to his great ruler and then led the horse back into the royal stables, a marvellous place. Philip, at once, caught sight of the usual flock of people gathering around him. As always, he tried to smile and act welcoming, but these were peasants, the poorest of the kingdom, and so, he did not possess any desire to speak to them.

Another person walked rather hurriedly over to him. The man was wearing a short, white coloured chiton and he had his sword positioned on his hip which was fastened with a belt around his waist.

"My king," the man said nobly as he tried to catch his breath.

Philip regarded the man and said, "Ah, Pausanias. I trust all is going well?" He asked him. Truth be told, he was nervous and he was trying not to show it. People would never want their king to be nervous.

Pausanias smiled through thin lips and said quietly, "The queen, her time has come."

Philip, too, smiled. However, his smile was indeed much more meaningful than that of Pausanias. Philip glanced at his bodyguard and then at the palace in all of its stately brilliance. "Show me to her," he ordered the man.

Pausanias of Orestis nodded slowly and then guided his king towards the queen. Her location had not been disclosed publically because it was such a sacred moment.

"It is exciting, is it not?" Philip put the question to his bodyguard as they walked to the palace.

Pausanias had not really been listening. "Sorry, my lord?" He asked for a clarification.

Had Pausanias been a lowly servant or infantryman, Philip knew that he would surely have him flogged or set out to be ridiculed in public for his insolence. However, Pausanias was not one of these such people, he was the king's friends. In fact, he was one of his closest friends. He was not an old man, Pausanias. He was a little younger than Philip. He had barely even reached his twentieth birthday, regardless, Philip trusted him with his life. Sometimes, he felt as though he preferred the young bodyguard's company to his own wife's. He was not quite sure what he should make of that feeling.

"To know that there is new life being breathed into the world at this very moment," Philip clarified for his bodyguard.

The young man nodded his head swiftly. "It certainly is, sire."

"Let us pray it is a boy," Philip said and he let out a short chuckle.

Pausanias did not laugh with him, but instead, he smiled awkwardly.

Sometimes, Philip felt as though he wanted to throttle the designer of the palace of Macedonia. It was so very confusing. He had lived in the palace for all of his life and yet, he still regularly found that he got lost in the walls from time to time. There were a great deal of passages and secret tunnels that were not apparent to the public majority of the kingdom. Only the highest and noblest of people would be permitted to have knowledge of that.

Philip felt himself praying to the gods when he stood by the door. Pausanias realised that the king, himself, was certainly not going to open the door, so he did it. Philip saw the very familiar four walls of the chambers of Olympias and then his eyes caught sight of something which was not quite so familiar. The maids and serving-girls had moved away from the bed, as had the priestess and sacred oracles. Philip gave them a look which let them know they should probably leave if they knew what was best for themselves. They looked briefly at the queen and then curtseyed to both her and Philip.

Philip had told Pausanias that he could accompany him into the room if he so wished, but the bodyguard had shaken his head and politely declined. He did not particularly favour the idea of being in the very same room as Philip and his beloved wife. The citizens of Macedonia would certainly not react well if they had heard news of Philip's lover being in the same room as his wife as she held her new-born son in her arms.

Olympias was only a young woman, closer to Pausanias' age than she was to Philip's. Nonetheless, it was only a diplomatic marriage. There was not as much love in the relationship as Philip would have liked. However, he knew very obviously that politics and the interests of Macedonia greatly succeeded his own personal and frankly, quite selfish desires and needs.

The king of Macedonia went to go and sit down beside his wife. In her bronzed arms, she held a small child. The umbilical cord had been removed, that Philip could readily see. She was holding the baby's hand with her small finger. Philip noticed that it was a boy and, at realising that, he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He reached out to touch his new-born son's head. The hair had the texture of downy bird feathers. It was golden in colour, and, at the sight of which, Philip was greatly surprised. His hair was dark brown and Olympias' was more or less of the same shade as his. The child had had its eyes closed but when Philip had sat down beside Olympias' it must have become aware of the sudden movement, because its eyelids flickered almost spasmodically and then focused on its mother's face. Olympias noticed the eyes and she almost shoved the baby away in shock. Philip felt himself frown. "What is it?" He asked his wife anxiously. God forbid, should the child be stricken with some sort of disability.

"His eyes…" Olympias answered him slowly as she tried to recover from her little state of shock.

Philip took the child from Olympias, who had more or less handed him over thankfully and he looked at the eyes. One was blue and one was brown. "That is nothing to be afraid of," Philip said, in an attempt to reassure her.

Olympias, however, was not really all that convinced. "It may be an illness of the mind," she said, sounding frightened.

Philip studied the child for a little while longer and then replied, "One is as dark as the night, whilst the other is as bright as the day. It is a blessing; a sign from the gods."

Olympias knew better than to argue with her husband; with the king. So, she remained quiet.

Philip stroked his son's golden hair. It was like fire; the mane of a majestic lion. He had only seen those animals once, during an expedition to Africa and still, his amazement for the ferocity and majesty of them had him in awe.

"The gods have blessed our son," Olympias said, in wonder.

"Aristander had said as much," Philip reminded Olympias.

The queen, having always held a strong type of belief in the seeing of omens and soothsayers, could not argue with that statement. Finally, she felt herself begin to be more relaxed. She watched her husband as he marvelled at the beauty and the perfection of their son.

The sky outside the palace was a brilliant shade of spectacular azure. There was not a single cloud in the sky and every citizen felt as though they could very nearly reach into the heavens and be witness to the gods themselves on Mount Olympus. Birds were calling and flying around speedily, looping around sandy coloured buildings and flapping their wings in slow and measured motions.

The month was Hecatombaeron and the summer sun was blazing higher than ever in the vivid sky. As he held his son in his arms, Philip felt no need to rejoice. For, this feeling alone seemed to be enough to satisfy him. He did recall, however, an event which could burden this future king; his son, for the rest of his life. The temple of Artemis was burned to the ground on this very day years in the past. He wondered if it was because so many of the great, almighty gods had been occupied with the birth of his precious son that the temple of Artemis was simply forgotten about.

A knock on the door broke the peaceful moment. Philip allowed them to enter and he notice that it was Parmenion standing in the doorway. Philip stood up after returning the infant child back to the safety and comfort of his mother's arms. He walked over to Parmenion and the two left Olympias' chambers.

"Sir," the faithful general began. He hoped that he had not angered his king by saying this. "The public wish to know of the birth."

Philip sighed as he knew that this moment would come. Philip was not pleased and nor was he particularly angry either. He realised that the emotion coursing through his mind at present was something which he barely ever had the misfortune of feeling; it was nervousness.

"Are you not pleased, sire?" Parmenion asked him.

"Of course I am pleased," the king replied quickly. He looked down at the floor and then back up to see Parmenion again. He noticed the many people traversing through the busy corridors of the palace. Some were soldiers and some were servants. Whilst others were messengers and others were noblemen from other kingdoms.

After a moment of silence, Parmenion broke it. He asked his king, "What will be the name of our future king?"

Philip took a considerable amount of time to answer the question and Parmenion was actually beginning to wonder if he was going to come up with an response or not. "I should like to name him Alexander," he said thoughtfully.

"Ah," Parmenion said. He respected his king's choice of name. His wife had only just given birth to their son, Philotas, a few months previous. His wife had insisted on calling the child Alexander, but Parmenion preferred Philotas. And so, his choice was irrevocably the one that was taken into account. "For the great kings?" He asked.

King Philip nodded his head. "That was my idea, Parmenion. I did not think it would be befitting to name him Philip."

"May I ask why not?" He asked, cocking his head.

"I would not like him to grow up in my shadow, Philip answered his favourite and most trusted general truthfully.

"That is very wise, my lord," Parmenion said, agreeably. "Alexander of Macedon will certainly make a fine ruler and a fine man."

Philip smiled thinly at his general and then saw Pausanias. He had obviously been talking to Attalus. Or, rather, been talked to by Attalus. Parmenion realised that he should leave and so he did. Philip waited for Pausanias to approach him. The man's eyes were quite red and Philip quickly realised that, to his shame, the man had been crying. However, he did not really know why. "Pausanias?" Philip addressed him, startled by his levels of distress.

The young bodyguard managed to finally control himself. "I am sorry, sire," he said quietly. He took a nervous glance in the direction of where Attalus had been and he sighed a sigh of honest relief when he realised that Attalus was no longer there.

"Pausanias..?" The king asked him again. This time, he asked it in a more forceful way.

"There is no need to worry, sire," Pausanias answered him quickly.

Philip knitted his brow tightly. "Perhaps I should have words with Attalus…" he suggested, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"No, sire," stuttered Pausanias. "There is no need."

Philip paused to think for a moment. He knew that Pausanias and Attalus had never really seen eye to eye. So, he decided that Pausanias' distress had just been because of that reason. S misunderstanding; no more.

Pausanias sighed heavily and said to the man. "Why are you so interested in the king?"

The other man walked up to him and said to him simply, "It is not I who has the interest in the king. It is he who is interested in me."

Pausanias of Orestis was furious and said, "How dare you talk of our king like that?" He tried very hard to keep his anger from showing too much, however, he found it to be very hard to do so.

The other man said, as if it were humorous, "I suspect the king very much enjoys company of men called Pausanias."

"Why do you say that?" Pausanias demanded form him hotly.

"Is it not obvious? You are called Pausanias," he replied simply.

"So?" Pausanias pressed him, not quite seeing the relevance of this man's point.

"I am called Pausanias too," he said directly. "But, the king has grown tired of you," he then added bitterly. "He seeks my compassion now."

Pausanias of Orestis' face twisted into an expression of deep and frustrated anger. "You have a nerve to say something such as that," he said tightly.

However, the other Pausanias ignored that last comment. "I assume you are familiar with a man called Attalus," he said bluntly.

Pausanias of Orestis nodded his head gravely. It was Attalus who had abused him; assaulted him, and Philip had done nothing to prevent it. He had not punished or executed Attalus for his simply heinous and despicable crimes.

"He is my friend," the other Pausanias declared. "In fact, a dear friend of mine."

"No one could be friends with such a bastard!" Pausanias insisted.

"I know Philip knows about what Attalus did to you," the other Pausanias said.

Pausanias of Orestis shook his head, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. "How can you possibly know?" He asked him wearily.

"Attalus told me, you fool," the other man said whilst grinning rather widely. "Does it not anger you to know that Philip has done nothing to make Attalus accountable for his wicked crimes?"

This pushed Pausanias to breaking point. "You hermaphrodite! You know nothing!" He yelled at him angrily.

The other Pausanias did not speak anymore. Instead, he just walked away.

"You liar!" Pausanias shouted at him as the other man walked away. "I hope you die!" And, a few years later, he did die, and in the most unfortunate of circumstances too.

However, Pausanias of Orestis was still not entirely sure of what he should do. His king, the man to whom he had devoted essentially all of his trust, had deceived him. Philip had not punished Attalus. Pausanias was sickened by this greatly.


	2. Aristotle

CHAPTER 2: 343BC: ARISTOTLE 1874

Parmenion allowed a slight glimmer of a smile to creep across his face. "He really is a talented boy," he spoke quietly to his king as they both watched the young Alexander. The boy was reading a book written in Greek. Philip, himself, was not entirely sure as to what exactly the book was, nor was Parmenion.

Philip nodded in agreement with his most trusted general. "He surely is," he concurred with him.

Parmenion turned his attention to the king. "My lord, you look as though there is something on your mind," he said warily.

"That would be fitting, as I am," Philip replied simply. He continued to watch his son, who was still very much engrossed in his book.

Parmenion thought for a while regarding whether or not he should carry on this conversation. At last, he came to a decision. "If I may… Why do you act so?" He asked the king, with a hopeful expression written on his face.

Philip regarded him and then replied, "I do not like him reading so much." He looked at the floor quickly and then back at his son.

Parmenion strained a sort of smile. "I would have thought him reading would be a good thing," he said, feeling a little confused.

"That is what I, too, thought it should entail. But, I think the boy ought to be engaging in more physical activities," Philip replied, sounding rather solemn as he did so.

"I am sure he will begin to show an interest, sire," Parmenion said, almost half-heartedly.

Moments later, Alexander had shut his book and was briskly walking over towards his father and the general. The boy brandished the book, giving Philip no choice but to take the book from his grasp. Philip flicked through the pages. He could tell easily that the book which was in his hands was really quite old. The corners of the pages were yellow and folded and some of the ink had begun to run slightly. He gave it back to his son. "What is this?" He asked him expectantly.

Alexander took the book from his father and replied to him, happily, "It is a book on medicines, by Aristotle."

Philip nodded his head thoughtfully. "Aristotle?" He asked his son, almost as if to double-check.

The boy nodded and said, "Yes, father. The great Aristotle."

"Perhaps that is the man who would be a fitting choice for young Alexander's tutorship," Parmenion openly suggested to his king, once Alexander had bade them goodbye and left the two alone.

Philip looked at him curiously and then said, "Perhaps. However, I do have the names of other teachers in mind."

Parmenio nodded his head thoughtfully. He then replied, "Who else where you thinking of, sire?"

The king had to think about that for a short moment. He had never been very good at remembering and recalling names and faces. "I think it was a gentleman who went by the name of Isocrates and someone from Greece named Speusippus."

"I cannot say that I have heard of those names before," Parmenion added. "However, I have heard that Aristotle is, indeed, a very good teacher."

"I am still sceptical," Philip said worriedly. He wanted only the very best of an education for his son. For, his son was not simply anyone. He was not a peasant or a soldier. Nor, was he really a Macedonian noble. He was something completely different; a world away. His son was of royal blood; godly blood. His son was going to be king.

Parmenion considered for a while and then said, trying to be helpful, "If it would be of any aid, my son has read some of the works that are attributed to this man named Aristotle. His opinion on this man was a particularly high one."

Philip began rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "I will consider it, Parmenion, I think," he then decided to say.

The general smiled. He had actually wanted the king's son to have a good education too, just like his son had. His son, Philotas, was barely half a year younger in age than Alexander. He had wanted the two of them to be friends, but Philotas did not like how Alexander would be announcing his holy lineage at more or less every opportunity that he found. So, Parmenion learned to accept that, perhaps, his son and the king would not be as close as he had hoped they would be, after all.

"Really?" The young, blonde-haired boy said excitedly and loudly. He stared at his father with the utmost of concentration.

The king nodded slowly and smiled briefly. "I think that he will be the most suitable tutor for you, my son," he said to Alexander.

Alexander sat bolt upright and then asked, "When will Aristotle be here?" His facial expression was one of a sort of deep longing.

Thus, Philip could quite clearly see how eager this young boy was to learn. He reminded him of himself when he was young. He managed to cut the little moment of abrupt reminiscing short and then replied to the boy, with a straight face, "It is not Aristotle who is coming to you; it is you who is going to him."

The smile faded very quickly from Alexander's lips. His brows came together in a tight point and he looked very confused. "What do you mean, father?" He asked the king, worriedly.

"You will be attending the most prestigious school in all of great Macedonia," Philip answered him bluntly. "Mieza," he concluded.

Alexander's expression was now no longer that of someone who was confused. He now looked more as though he were annoyed and frustrated. "Father, that is a boarding school, is it not?" He asked him.

Philip saw the light go out of his son's exquisite eyes. Nevertheless, he replied almost silently, "It is, my boy. It is."

"But, I should like to stay in the palace," Alexander said. He did not take his eye off of his father's face for even one short moment.

"That is all very well, Alexander. However, you are growing up now. You are thirteen years of age. You need to take responsibility," Philip then added.

Alexander couldn't think of what he thought to be the correct words to answer his father with. "Father, I do not wish to go. I want to stay in the palace with you and mother."

Philip tried to ignore his son's subliminal pleadings with him. "No, Alexander," he finally said. "My decision is final."

"Father…" Alexander began quickly. He didn't know how exactly he should finish off that sentence, so he just left it there and didn't bother to finish it.

"You will be quite all right, my child," Philip added in his best caring voice.

Alexander nodded and then left his father where he was. He wanted to believe him, but he could not. No matter how hard it was that he tried. He had never really been away from the palace. His mother, the queen of Macedonia, had always made it absolutely apparent to him that it was far too dangerous for a Macedonian royal to go out in public. And so, he had listened to his mother. He had rarely even ventured out of the palace gates. He only really went into the courtyards and even then, that would only be for quite a short amount of time. He had been riding with his father quite a few times and Alexander knew that when he did that, it would likely be the only way he could escape the confines of the great palace. He longed to see the ocean and the beaches. However, he knew that that could wait. There were quite obviously more important things for him to attend to.

King Philip walked over to his son and lay a hand on his shoulder. "My son, your classes commence very soon. I suggest you leave," he said. He sounded rather distant; far too distant than Alexander would have been even the slightest bit comfortable with.

Alexander did not answer his father with words. Instead, he simply looked at him in a way which showed Philip that he was indeed leaving now. Pausanias had been chosen by Philip, himself, to escort Alexander to his new school. Pausanias was the most trusted of Philip's royal bodyguards. Philip wanted his son to be in the safest hands as possible. That was the precisely very reason why he had chosen to appoint Pausanias. Pausanias, however, did not really like being in this particular role. He was one of the Somatophylakes. He had no idea really why Philip had placed someone as experienced as himself with the basically menial task of looking after his son. However, Pausanias managed to somewhat console himself with the knowledge that he would only be walking Alexander to school and eventually back to the palace again. Alexander's tutorage with Aristotle was to last in the time frame of somewhere in the region of three years.

"Alexander," Pausanias asked the boy carefully. "Are you ready to come?"

The blonde boy glanced up at the man, shielding the blazingly hot sunlight with his hand raised up to his forehead. "I am," he replied to him simply.

Pausanias walked with Alexander. They had both been given the opportunity to wear cloaks. This was meant as a way of disguising their true identities. Pausanias had gratefully taken his and he found, to his annoyance, that he had to constantly pin the flowing material down with his hands because it would flutter up and block his vision. However, Alexander was not wearing one. Of course, he had been given the opportunity to take one of the best royal cloaks.

Alexander, meanwhile, did not want to wear it. He had very firmly planted beliefs in truth and honesty. Whilst Philip knew, deep down, that this was a very mature attitude for a boy of his age to possess, it was also the correct attitude. However, Philip wanted his son to be protected, as did his wife. Olympias had been the one with the idea to offer up the two cloaks to the royal bodyguard and her son. She had the most desire for Alexander's safety to be ensured. Philip did not want to upset his wife, and so, he decided to listen to her.

Alexander did not want the people of Macedonia, whom he knew he would rule over one day in either the distant or near future, to fear him. He did not want them to think he was any better than him. He had always thought that he and the poorer citizens were more or less the same, with the exception of course that he, himself, was just of a more privileged background. However, that belief was all basically torn asunder when Olympias had decided to tell her young son that he was the son of Zeus-Ammon. Alexander now had the magical yet also potent belief that he was a god. He was royalty, and he knew that. But, he had never really considered himself to be higher than anyone else, until his mother had planted that very idea into his young and fragile mind.


	3. Friends

CHAPTER 3: 343BC: FRIENDS 2012

The man was old, but not very old. Alexander figured that this man was probably around ten years older than his own father was. He had a brown but gradually greying beard and a few wisps of white were dotted around in it. It hung quite a lot. It went down, Alexander saw, at least to his middle. The man was balding. He did have hair on his head, but there was a huge circle at the top of it which was completely devoid of hair. The wrinkles on the man's forehead were quite deep. Alexander could see them from a reasonable distance. There were two reasons as to why the man's forehead was so much wrinkled, Alexander thought to himself. The first was not a very pleasant one. That was that this mysterious figure was always angry and annoyed, so much so, that he had gotten permanent stress-related lines drawn between his eyebrows and his hairline. However, the second option brought Alexander a considerably greater amount of relief. That second reason was that this man was always deep in thought. That he was constantly thinking about one thing or another. Alexander preferred that choice.

The man also had a kind face. He was quite pale, which was quite odd. The fact that this man was a Greek national was known by Alexander. Surely, this man should have a darker shade of skin? Alexander had to remind himself, though, that he himself had a remarkably light skin tone. It looked out of place, a man surrounded by tanned and bronzed people, whilst he alone had essentially white skin. Alexander managed to dismiss that particular thought.

Pausanias stepped away from Alexander ever so slightly and the man appeared to notice the movement, even though it was ever so discreet. The older man walked over to Pausanias and the boy. He smiled gladly and said, "Ah, the royal prince!"

Alexander, to his deepest dismay, felt his cheeks begin to get a little hot. He quickly realised that he was blushing. He tried to keep it under control. "I am Alexander," he said in a small voice.

The strange man said, "I have learned a lot about you, my child." He studied the young boy. It was hard to believe that he was only at the mere age of thirteen years. Whilst, he was lacking quite a bit in the height department, the child's ever thoughtful expression and well-built physique seemed to indicate that he could pass for someone a few years older than he really was himself.

"And, I you," Alexander said, after managing to gather up his most of his mental strength. "My father says you are the most revered philosopher in all of Greece, Aristotle," he then added promptly.

Aristotle let out a short laugh. "Why, thank you, my boy," he replied gratefully.

Pausanias found that he was still standing beside the boy. He knew that he wasn't really needed there anymore. He felt as though he was, for lack of a better word, just hovering.

Alexander looked to his left and noticed that Pausanias was still stood there. "You can leave now, Pausanias," he said, trying to sound authoritative at the same time as being careful to not come across as being too insolent or rude.

"The king has requested that I am present for the first day's tutoring," the bodyguard replied nonchalantly.

Aristotle, who was still stood nearby, cocked his head to one side. He had never had this happened before. Not wanting to be the one to interfere, he stayed quiet and watched as Alexander and Pausanias made some sort of an attempt at trying to sort the issue out for themselves.

"It is not necessary. I will be quite all right," Alexander reminded Pausanias.

The bodyguard sighed and then frowned lightly. "I cannot disobey the king," he replied straightforwardly. "The king has requested that I stay here, and so, that is what I will do."

Alexander found that a short huff escaped from his lips and he stood there, frustrated. Then, he realised that he now wanted to be left alone, and he didn't want his father or mother with him. He knew that he really was old enough to be left alone. He did not want his father's bodyguard following him everywhere; he knew that for certain.

Aristotle quickly then came to the realisation that these two were not going to solve their problem anytime soon. That being said, he decided to step in this time. "Pausanias of Orestis, I believe that the boy can make decisions for himself. If the king is curious as to why you have returned to the palace, tell him the answer truthfully. If it is not acceptable, then I will take full responsibility for my actions.

Reluctantly, Pausanias nodded slowly. "I shall do so," he said to the tutor quietly.

Aristotle watched the bodyguard leave the vicinity and then he said privately to Alexander, "You are indeed very privileged to attend this school, my son."

Alexander nodded and smiled at his new tutor. "I have been told." He changed the subject and then said to Aristotle as they walked into the atrium, "Is it true that you are really the best philosopher?"

"Now, my child," Aristotle began. "I cannot say yes because being self-important is never an acceptable way to act. Nor could I answer no because deceitfulness is a sin."

Alexander considered those words for a brief moment and then he giggled and smiled widely at the man. "Nonetheless, my father said that you are," he said, after having stopped smiling.

A small smile of gratefulness crept across Aristotle's face. He made his way into a large room. There were two monstrous bookshelves made from maple wood which towered above them. Some of them were written in Latin, whilst the rest of them were written in Greek. They were thick books which were also covered in quite a considerable amount of dust and cobwebs. Aristotle brought down a book from one of the two bookshelves and handed it over to alexander. Alexander took it gratefully and began to flick quickly through the pages.

"Not so fast, my boy," Aristotle said to him advisedly. "That book is very old."

Alexander gave him a brief apologetic look and then he carried on leafing through the many pages of the book in a more careful and respectful manner.

"I read this book when I was a boy," Aristotle said to Alexander. "I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did," he then added.

Alexander said, "I have heard of the Iliad, but father never let me read it until now."

"Why ever not?" Aristotle asked him, looking obviously quite confused as to why a father would not let his son read a book that was such a masterpiece, as this one was.

Alexander finally stopped looking at the book with so much concentration. "He said that it would distract me from other, more important things." He looked briefly at his tutor and then continued, "He said that things like military training took precedence over this."

"I can understand," Aristotle replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "However, I do not agree. A king needs to be strong and possess great military and strategic abilities; that is quite obvious. But, a king also requires intelligence and passion and determination. No one can achieve such things if they do not receive an education, Alexander."

The young boy carefully considered these wise words. "I shall start reading the Iliad tonight," he said to Aristotle.

Just at that moment, a man dressed in a simple tunic walked briskly over to Aristotle. Alexander assumed that he was a servant, and he was right.

"Sir, there is a student wishing to enrol at the door," the servant informed his master.

Aristotle nodded his head slowly and thanked the servant. Aristotle then made his way slowly to the entrance door and alexander, not knowing entirely what he should do, just followed him.

"Ah, Amyntor," Aristotle said as he welcomed the man and the boy into the atrium. "I was not expecting you to arrive until tomorrow," he added.

The man who Aristotle had addressed as Amyntor nodded and smiled briefly. "I trust you have a place for my son," he said as he glanced over at the young boy who was stood beside him.

Aristotle nodded. "You must be Hephaestion," He said thoughtfully as he looked at the boy.

The boy had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was taller than Alexander was but not nearly as striking in appearance. "I am," Hephaestion replied politely.

"What is it like to be the son of the king?" Hephaestion asked Alexander as they sat at the back of the room during one of Aristotle's many lectures.

Alexander wasn't entirely sure as to how he could possibly answer that question. He had never acknowledged any different other than knowing that he was heir to the throne to the entirety of Macedonia and its ever expanding empire. "I cannot really answer that question," he said unhelpfully.

"Oh," Hephaestion said as he let out a little sigh. He flicked through the pages of the book which had been given to him by Aristotle. It was not a particularly interesting book, Hephaestion thought. It was about philosophy and ethics, a subject which he had never really cared for all that much. He just flicked the pages until he found a diagram and he began to study that.

On the other side of Hephaestion, another boy was sat. He was called Callisthenes and he was older than Alexander and Hephaestion were. He had only a few weeks left at Mieza before he would enrol in the army of King Philip. He had his head rested on his arms and was fast asleep. Thankfully for him, though, Aristotle did not seem to have noticed.

Alexander, on the other hand, was listening intently on what Aristotle was saying. He was practically noting down every single thing which came out of the philosopher's mouth. However, he had been writing so quickly that his quill had broken and he turned to ask Hephaestion for his.

"I don't think mine works either," Hephaestion said to the young prince.

Alexander frowned and then slumped back in his seat. He pushed his own quill away and reached down to his side, to pick up the copy of the Iliad, which Aristotle had given to him. Down the sides of the print, were many blocks of writing. Alexander gathered that that writing belonged to Aristotle. He did not really mind that the copy was old and second-hand. In fact, he was rather glad that that was how it was. The annotations were about all sorts of different things. Some were about the literary devices which Homer had used and others were about the geography that was in question. He began to read the first page.

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.

"What are you reading?" Hephaestion asked as he tried to get a look at the front cover of the book.

Alexander finished reading his sentence and then he replied quietly, so as to not distract Aristotle from his teachings, "The Iliad." He showed the book to Hephaestion and then carried on reading, after recalling where he had left off.

Hephaestion wanted to ask the boy more questions. He wanted to know more about what it was like to be royalty. Of course, he himself was the son of a nobleman, but still, that was not nearly the same things as being heir to the throne of one of the most powerful and most influential kingdoms in the world.


	4. Alexander tames Bucephalus

CHAPTER 4: 342BC: ALEXANDER TAMES BUCEPHALUS 1996

The day was indeed a very warm one in the middle of June. The eastern sun was high up above in the sky; shining down on all that were down below it. It seemed to all men that none were able to escape its blinding glare. It was midday and the powerful star was at its highest, as well as being at its most strong. The king of Macedonia, Philip, was stood alongside Parmenion.

Alexander was stood beside his father also. He was watching the spectacle with a great deal of awe in wonderment.

"Fifteen talents?" The man known as Philoneicus, who had a short, stubbly little beard yelled loudly. He had to speak at such a great moment, for nearly all of the citizens of Macedonia were stood around the arena. Not one single person was silent. That is, except for Alexander, who had not said even the slightest of word. The man with the short beard patted the great black horse roughly with his coarse hand and then said, this time more loudly, "Fourteen and a half talents, then?"

Cleitus looked at the king briefly, who gave him a just little nod. Cleitus wandered over to the bearded man and said, "I'll pay you just that."

Philoneicus the Thessalian laughed roughly. "Oh, my son. You think you are brave enough to handle this stallion?"

"I see no reason why I should not be so," Cleitus the Black replied insolently. He began to circle the great horse, as if he were going in for some sort of an attack. The horse whinnied and began to thrust its massive legs high up into the hot sky. Cleitus took another tentative little step closer to the huge horse. This time, he started to try and gather his strength. He made a short, silent prayer to the almighty Zeus and then placed his hand to the horse's muscular neck.

Almost instantly, the horse shied away. It kicked and brayed very loudly. It thrust out one of its fore legs and its powerful hoof came right into contact with Cleitus' stomach. The man stumbled backwards and felt himself start to fall the floor. His body came crashing down with an almighty thud.

Callisthenes hesitated briefly for one moment and then he ran over to Cleitus. Cleitus brushed the caring man away from him gently and then slowly and labouredly got to his feet. He felt unsteady but was too ashamed to even feel the simply immense pain that was slowly but surely coursing through his abdomen. He hobbled away from the centre of the arena and gave the horse a frustrated and angry glare before returning to go and stand beside Philip.

The king looked at the man and laughed. "Why, young Cleitus, what a fool you are!" He jested him.

Cleitus, had that insult been delivered to him by anyone else, would have surely struck him there and then. Luckily though, for Philip, Cleitus was not going to anything like that to his king.

"Who else dares to conquer this mighty stallion?" The bearded vendor said aloud. He was now stood a little farther away from the horse, ever since Cleitus' rather unfortunate encounter with the essentially crazed animal.

Then, someone else stepped forward. It was Perdiccas. The man was barely sixteen years of age, thus, his approach caused alarm to many spectators. Some were laughing and mocking the poor man, whilst others, albeit only a small minority, were cheering him on. One of his supporters was Alexander.

"He'll never tame that horse," Hephaestion said to Alexander in a quiet tone of voice. He was stood very close to Philip, and so, naturally, he did not want to be heard as speaking out of term.

Alexander blinked in the intense sun and then turned to face his friend. "Have faith, Hephaestion. I am sure Perdiccas can do it if he tries," he said. Although, he wasn't really all that convinced himself.

Perdiccas walked over to the man who was selling the mighty animal.

The vendor, Philoneicus gave him a sly smile and said mockingly, "How can a boy such as yourself afford to buy this horse?"

He had said that rather loud and Perdiccas' father had obviously heard him. "Then, I will pay for the animal," he proclaimed proudly.

The vendor shrugged slightly. He didn't care really who he got his money from. A sale was a sale, and it didn't matter at all where or who the payment originated form. "If you have such faith in you son, then, so be it."

Perdiccas gingerly made his way over to the animal. He stroked its glossy black mane with the back of his hand and enjoyed the feeling that its soft hair gave to his skin. He tried to hold the crazed animal still. However, it was too strong and too powerful for him to handle. Nevertheless, he was not ready to give up just yet. Instead of giving in, he pushed down on the animal's neck and managed to just about perch himself on top of it. Instantly, the animal felt a great level of distress. It bucked its head and then stood on its two powerful hind legs. The horse shook its head wildly and Perdiccas found that he was really holding on for dear life. He clutched at the stallion's mane, but he couldn't fight the powerful animal. He let go with one hand involuntarily and the horse shook him off its back. Perdiccas, having no other choice, fell to the ground.

The landing was very hard and rough and the ground scraped through his tunic and onto his bare skin. He stood up and held his back, which was smarting quite considerably. He bowed his head in shame and then walked back over to Alexander and Hephaestion. "I bet I looked a right fool," he said quietly.

"Do not despair, Perdiccas," Alexander said comfortingly. "You did better than most people would have."

"Better even than Cleitus," Hephaestion added.

Perdiccas smiled thinly. "Thank you."

Man after man still could not tame the wild horse. Everyone was thrown from its dark back and not even a single one had managed to ride the animal. The vast majority of those who had been brave enough to even venture close to the animal were scared away the moment that the horse reared up onto its hind legs or when they saw the fire of its nostrils.

"Father," Alexander began slowly as he watched even more men try to conquer this beast of an animal. "Why is it that not a single person can ride this animal?"

Philip looked at his son and replied to him, "That horse is ill in the mind. It is broken. No one could tame that animal."

Alexander frowned and then asked his father, "Not even Heracles?"

Philip smiled at his son. "Perhaps, my son. Perhaps."

"I will ride him," Alexander said, almost absently, as he stared at the animal in wonder.

Philip scoffed and said, "No, my son. You cannot tame that horse. It is crazed; ill."

"I will ride him, father," Alexander said defiantly.

The king sighed, after realising that his son was quite obviously not going to take no as an answer.

Hephaestion gave Alexander a troubled look. "Alexander, are you sure?" He asked him; the nervousness obvious in his voice.

"I am, Hephaestion," Alexander said. He said this as much to reassure himself, as well as Hephaestion.

Philip stepped back and allowed his son to try and tame the wild horse.

"I will tame this animal!" Alexander declared loudly.

Philoneicus the Thessalian laughed bitterly and then quickly closed his mouth after seeing that the king was watching him intently. "Of course, young prince," he said. "But, what if you fail?" He asked the boy.

Philip listened to what Alexander had to say next quite intently. "Then, I will pay for the horse myself," Alexander said gladly.

The vendor stepped away from the animal and allowed Alexander to come closer. The boy crept nearer and nearer to the horse. He made low pitched, quiet hushing sounds and raised his arms up to his middle, as if he were signalling some sort of a surrender to this creature. Alexander took a few more tentative steps over to the horse. He studied the animal's magnificent beauty. Its silky black hide reflected the blazing heat of the son and its great mane seemed to gleam.

"You are scared of your shadow, aren't you?" Alexander spoke to the horse softly. He then reached up his hand slowly and brought it down so that it would rest on the animal's neck. Alexander braced himself as he saw the powerful muscles in the animal's neck begin to move but then relaxed again as the horse calmed down.

The horse whinnied quietly and took a few steps back. It began to trot slowly towards Alexander and it bowed its head, giving up its dominance.

Alexander said to the stallion softly, "The shadow is just you. There is no need to be afraid." He gestured to the black figures on the ground. "Look there… that is you and that is me," he added sensitively.

The horse seemed to listen to him and it looked down to see its shadow dancing about on the ground and it brayed loudly.

Alexander instantly patted it on the neck and said, "Shhh…" He then tried to turn the horse around. He carefully let it turn to face away from him and the horse was now looking towards the sun. Alexander moved around and was now stood, once again, at the horse's side. He stroked its glossy mane and then tried to hold it still. He knew that he could do such a thing, for this animal was much stronger, much larger, and much more powerful than he was. Regardless of this, he still made an attempt. He put one foot on the horse's side and carefully and strongly pushed himself atop the great animal. It kicked about in the sandy ground for a brief moment. Alexander bent down and whispered into the horse's ear, "Bucephalus. That's what I'll call you. Bucephalus."

The horse whinnied, as if it were signalling its acceptance of the name.

Alexander dug his heel into the side of the animal and it reared back in response.

Olympias, who was sat in the royal box, gasped in horror. She had not taken her eyes off of her boy ever since he had stepped foot into the arena. She held her breath and feared that her son would fall form the mighty animal. She knew, very well, that Alexander could quite easily break his back if he had to endure a fall from that mightily strong horse. However, her mind was soon put to some degree of rest when she saw the horse come back down onto all four of its black feet.

"Come, Bucephalus, we will ride!" Alexander exclaimed triumphantly to the animal and he kicked the horse's strong flank. The horse instantly galloped off through the arena gates.

Feeling the dense air stream past his face brought Alexander a great deal of excitement. He had, like most Greek boys, been riding before, but, he had never known riding to be quite like this moment.

After a few more exhilarating moments of riding, Alexander turned the animal around with little difficulty and the two bolted home. He dismounted once he was, again, in the middle of the arena. Philip rushed over to his son, once he had stepped away from the magnificent horse, and said to him proudly, "Alexander, you have done it!"

Meanwhile, seated far away, Olympias breathed a sigh of deep relief and finally was able to relax again.

"My son has tamed a horse which no other man could tame!" Philip repeated loudly. He picked Alexander up and kissed his head. "My son, you must find a kingdom equal to yourself; Macedonia is not big enough for you."


	5. The battle of Chaeronea

CHAPTER 5: 338BC: THE BATTLE OF CHAERONEA 2114

Philip, who was trotting slowly and measuredly in front of his army, spoke to his men proudly, "For many a year, Greece has been seen as the greatest state of them all. But, now, that will all be sure to change."

Philip, surprisingly, did not have his enthusiasm for battle spurned or let down because of a failure to get a substantial alliance with the Boetians. They would have been a very good ally for the people and armies of Macedonia to have at hand. However, the Boetians did not want to accept Philip's offer of an alliance. That being said, Philip decided that it would, therefore, be quite befitting for him to wage war on both the Boetians and the people of Athens.

In the middle of the plains of Greece, Philip waited with his army for the rest of his allies to arrive. And, when at last they had turned up, he marched into Boetia. Boetia was a prime location in Greece. It was one of great importance and, with in it, was the mighty Greek city of Thebes. So, Philip knew that a battle with the people of Boetia would surely lead to provoking the people of Greece into a considerably bigger war.

The Macedonian army and the Athenians were both equal when it came to the factors of zealousness and courage. However, the Athenian and Theban army had a few more men than Philip did. They had at least an army of over thirty-five-thousands well trained officers. All of whom, possessed more than enough tactical and strategic abilities. However, in spite of this, Philip did have the great advantage of being a greater man when it concerned generalship. This was mostly down to the fact that Philip, himself, had engaged in a great deal of battles. Moreover, he had been the commander or general in most of these occurrences. He very rarely lost a battle, whether it was a small one or a very significant one.

Furthermore, Philip also had with him, in his great army, some of them best men. He had the most loyal, most trustworthy and most faithful of commanders. Every single one of these men would be willing to die for their king, if the unfortunate time ever did happen to pass by.

"Men," Philip of Macedonia spoke the word loudly. "The time has come. It has finally arrived," he continued to talk. "Our empire is continuing to expand. And, Greece will be one of the many states to bow down to us!"

The soldiers, all thirty-two-thousand of them, let out a loud, shrill and quite simply terrifying battle cry in response.

Philip raised his hand and signalled for the archers to do their part. And, they did so. Every single archer placed an arrow in the required position and then pulled back their bow strings. Philip watched the silent battle field for a brief moment and he knew that it would certainly not stay this quite for much longer. In a few hours, maybe even actually less than that, the once deserted area would be littered with a great amount of corpses. He managed to supress that thought back into the depths of his mind and then put his raised arm down so that it was now at his side.

The archers let go of their bow strings and a hoard of arrows was now visible to be careering through the air. The sheer force of the air rushing back into the arrow heads was so very strong that it almost caused a loud, shrill squealing sound to become apparent to the men bellow.

The Greeks scrambled in their lines. Their once well-organised battle formations were now basically more or less undistinguishable. The men began to panic wildly and people were running in all kinds of different directions. The few commanders and infantry men who had managed to remain cool were raising their shields up high above their heads. However, their wooden shields were not quite strong enough and some of the Macedonian arrowheads pierced them. However, the Greek soldiers who had not been so quick thinking, had forgotten to bring their shields into place. The held up their swords, some of them.

The rest of the arrows came falling down and many of them, in fact, the vast majority of them, found their way into the bodies of the Greek soldiers. Men were heard to be screeching and howling at the feel of the immense and concentrated pain that the wooden arrows brought to them. Some of them tried desperately to pull the arrows out of their bodies, but it was a vain attempt. The arrows had struck them with such great force that they were buried too deep into their flesh.

Philip sighed a sigh of relief, for he could see clearly how many Greeks had fallen at the strike of his arrows. He yelled to Parmenion, who was at the far end of the phalanx, "Parmenion, go first!"

Parmenion acknowledged the urgent command of his king by giving him a brief nod of his head. He called to his men and led them swiftly forth into battle. The Greeks began to charge at Parmenion and his wing and the bloody cavalry battle quickly began to take place.

Philip turned his head to the other far side of the phalanx. "Alexander!" He yelled loudly.

"Yes, father?" Alexander called back to the king.

"You and the right wing take the Thebans!" Philip shouted.

Alexander, along with the majority of Philip's best commanders, dug their heels into the flanks of their horses and charge headfirst into the Theban centre. The battle was bloody and Alexander found that it was quite confusing. However, he did not give in. He knew, all too well, that it would be quite simple for him to just turn and flee. Nevertheless, he did not. He stayed with the right wing of the Macedonian cavalry.

Alexander may have been quite young, but this eighteen year old boy was very quick to impress the Macedonian commanders who were stationed nearby to him. He was demonstrating great amounts of courage and zeal even when the battle had only really been raging for a few minutes or so. He did not take pity on the slower enemy soldiers. Instead, he braced himself before taking any action and then he finally delivered to them the fatal blows.

The young prince was very eager to please his father. He had always felt as though Philip was not particularly impressed with him when he was younger. Alexander would hope that Philip's belief in him would increase as the years went on by and he got older and started to mature as both a man and as a soldier. This time, Alexander realised, really was his real chance to impress his father. And so, that being said, he gave his men even more encouragement. The men were not entirely sure as to how they should react to this man, who was quite a bit younger than themselves. However, when they all were quickly aware of Alexander's fervour and bravery, they did not hesitate any further and they too charged with him.

Still very much eager to show his father his high levels of prowess, Alexander thrust harder into the enemy line. And, at last, some weak points started to appear in the Theban line. The Thebans began to fall back and Alexander and his commanders could continue to go forward.

Corpses, mostly Greeks, began to pile up at their feet and many horses were seem to be dying or already dead on the sandy ground. Alexander looked at Bucephalus, who he was riding, and patted his neck comfortingly. "Come on, Bucephalus," he said softly. He kicked the horse and it sped up its pace. Those with Alexander did very much the same thing and they made more gaps in the Theban line.

More and more dead bodies were starting to appear on the ground and Alexander and those with him found that they had no choice other than to trample those who had nobly fallen.

Finally, they succeeded in breaking the entire Theban line fully and the Greeks began to disperse rather quickly in states of distress and terror.

Philip, himself, had also been victorious on his part. He had managed to successfully advance with his commanders a little further towards the Athenian army and the Greeks were quickly hit with the disappointing and embarrassing realisation that they really had no other choice but to flee. And so, that is exactly what they did. However, those that did actually flee quite far away from the scene of battle, were quickly cut down by other Macedonian forces who were nearby.

This was because the Macedonians had been able to totally envelop the Greek forces. Not a single Athenian or Theban man could take a look around behind himself and not catch sight to a hoard of angry and powerfully Macedonian infantry or cavalry charging towards them.

Alexander was thankful for the fact that the Athenians had actually divided up their forces according to what the nationality of their individual soldiers was. The Macedonian army was not organised in such a prejudiced way. They had the least experienced of their men at the back of the lines, along with those who were the veterans of battle, as well as the many baggage trains and pack animals.

Such a great deal of the Athenian and Theban army had actually fled the bloody scene of the battle that the Greeks quickly were struck with the disheartening and simply humiliating knowledge that they really had no choice other than to give up the right. They had lost their forces to either death or injury or sheer terror. No such thing had befallen the Macedonian army.

Those of the Athenians and Thebans who were not killed, injured badly or had fled were taken as captives by Philip. This upset and angered Alexander to some extent. For, he felt as though these man had fought nobly; as they had not been the ones to flee. So, naturally, he did not understand why they should be the ones to be taken as prisoners.

"Surely we should only take the deserters as captives, father?" Alexander said to Philip after the battle. "And not the rest of them."

"Why ever do you think that?" Philip asked his son.

Alexander thought about what exactly he was going to say in answer to his father and then replied, "These men are some of the most noble in the battle; surely we should praise them for that. It is not they who fled or fell. They remained to continue fighting the battle, even when the realised that the majority of their comrades had fled or had been killed."

Philip shook his head and replied to his son, "No, that is certainly not how it works."

"Then, that is how it should be," Alexander replied to his father insolently. He did not even look up to face him. His concentration remained fixed tightly on the ground.

Philip stayed silent. He assumed that his son was just being foolish. So, he left it there. Philip then left Alexander in the battle tent.

Alexander became bored very quickly. He had nothing to occupy his time with. He was younger than most of the Macedonian soldier, so he thought that he didn't really have much hope in the way of talking to them about something. So, he stayed where he was and sat down on the floor.

Moments later, Parmenion walked over to Alexander. He was too old to be able to sit down briskly, so he stayed standing. Alexander sensed that someone was standing over him, so, out of respect, he stood up and saw that it was Parmenion. "Parmenion?" Alexander said, still quite surprised by his sudden and unannounced presence.

"Alexander, do not take this the wrong way, but you must learn to appreciate your father's actions," Parmenion said to him advisedly.

"I understand, Parmenion," Alexander said. "But, I do not respect what he does. Surely every man deserves that right to a decent life, and a decent remembrance when he is dead?" He turned to ask him.

"You are a very thoughtful boy, Alexander," Parmenion said to him quietly. "However, you need to know that you can do more to change these things when you are the king."

"Then, that is how it will be when I am king," Alexander replied defiantly. He took great pride in equality and believed deeply in the well-treatment of all those around him, even with his enemies. Although, with those who he did not have much respect for, he would not be nearly so pleasant and kind.

Perdiccas nudged the prince's arm lightly. "Hephaestion told me what you did at Chaeronea," he said to him, his voice full of appraisal.

Alexander shrugged, as if it meant nowhere as much as it did.

"He said the battle would've been lost without you breaking the Theban Sacred Band," Perdiccas added, insistently.

Alexander couldn't help but let a grin flicker across his face. "Parmenion helped," he said nonchalantly. "Anyway, Hephaestion wasn't even at the battle."

Hephaestion had been standing with him, looking a little guilty and almost out of place. "Philotas told me," he said quietly.

"Anyway," Perdiccas said quickly. "I doubt those Thebans would've had much hope. I presume you both know of their… formation."

Alexander nodded. "Of course we do. Everyone does."

"I don't really think it's a good idea," Perdiccas retorted.

"What isn't?" Hephaestion asked.

"Well, a group of soldiers comprised of male lovers can't do much for the forces," Perdiccas elaborated. "Wouldn't it be distracting? Who would want to watch their lover be struck down in front of them?"

Alexander considered this and exchanged a quick glance with Hephaestion. "I think it would prove beneficial. Seeing one's lover die would surely spur them on, would it not?" He smiled when he thought of Achilles and his beloved Patroclus.

Perdiccas simply shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He was called out by someone, so left the prince and his friend.

"What you said, Alexander, was it true?" Hephaestion asked him, interested. His question was met with silence, so he explained it further, "About the death of a lover being an incentive to keep fighting?"

"I don't know, if I am honest. I just hope that never happens." He touched Hephaestion's cheek briefly and smiled. "I don't think I will change the composition of the Companion Cavalry, though. Father wouldn't take too kindly to that."

Hephaestion nodded and shrunk back from Alexander's hand when someone walked past them.

Alexander smiled and said, "I wouldn't worry. I think everyone knows."

"They do?" He asked, looking a little nervous.

He nodded slowly, though he wasn't entirely sure. "Besides, when I'm king, you'll be the head of the Companion Cavalry."

"I will? I don't think that's very wise. After all, I am not the best soldier, Alexander," Hephaestion said, his words coming out in streams.

"You have read the Iliad, yes?" Alexander asked him.

"Everyone in Aristotle's class has. And almost everything by Plato, Xenophanes, Heraclitus and Phaedon," Hephaestion answered proudly, unaware that he was rambling.

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Then, you would know that Achilles taught Patroclus how to fight, because Achilles was the better fighter."

Hephaestion nodded. At least he didn't say I was worse.

"So, I'll teach you," Alexander replied.


	6. The death of Philip

CHAPTER 6: 336BC: THE DEATH OF PHILIP 1682

Cleopatra shook her head and sighed quietly. "I do not want this any more than you," she said solemnly and quietly to Alexander of Epirus.

Alexander of Epirus turned to face her and said to her, "I understand. But, this is Philip's wish. We can hardly argue with him."

She nodded her head gravely and then held out her hand. Alexander of Epirus took a little step forward and took her hand. She and him then walked out of the tent and emerged quickly a few moments later. They were greeted with a spectacle which was simply magnificent. Basically every single one of the many nobles that Macedonia had to offer were standing in the great hall. Every single one of those people all had their eager and very excited eyes trained on the couple as they walked slowly in to the hall.

From all over the great kingdom of Greece, people had flocked to see this great wedding. It was to be a most splendid spectacle. The event was to take place in a city of Macedonia, called Aegae.

Philip had, quite recently, been given the title of leader by the now non-resistant Greeks and he soon began a war against the people of the great kingdom of Persia. He had sent his loyal and faithful generals, Attalus and Parmenion, to Asia, so that they were able to begin the movement of freeing the Greek cities. Therefore, he was very pleased with how things were turning out. So much so, that he had decided to order magnificent sacrifices to take place. In addition, he had given the order that a wedding between his daughter, Cleopatra and Olympias' brother, Alexander of Epirus should take place.

The king was keen on the idea of having as many of those of the Greek nationality to take part in the both the festival and in the worship of the gods. Therefore, he had arranged magnificent musical contests, as well as many splendid banquets for his friends and the multitude of guests. For that reason, he had sent for all of his very own guest-friends from all over Greece, and told his friends to invite as many of their own friends as was possible. Philip was also quite glad for the opportunity to arise for him to let the Greeks know that he was well disposed to them and to also repay the honours that were previously shown to him when he had been given complete control of the Greek forces with appropriate entertainment.

Not only did many famous individuals crown Philip with crowns made from gold, but the vast majority of the cities of important statuses did this too, including the capital city of Greece, Athens. The Greeks, therefore, made it known to everyone that anyone who was even brave enough to conspire or take part in a plot against King Philip would be dealt with accordingly and also then punished severely.

Throughout the timeline of most of the celebration and festivities, there was word that there was indeed a plot against Philip which had been formulated with a great deal of planning and clever thinking. This news had also actually come to reach the ears of Philip, himself. However, in spite of this, Philip tried to ignore this new, frightening knowledge and he carried on with the joyous merriments which were, by now, well under way.

Among the guests and those invited was a man named Neoptolemus. He was one of the most famous actors in all of Asia and Greece. Moreover, this man also possessed the most powerful of voices. Philip, who was very keen to hear this famous voice in action, ordered the man to perform some appropriate pieces. Most of the pieces which Philip had asked him to perform were related to the king's war and campaign against the Persians.

Therefore, Neoptolemus chose a poem to deliver to the king. The man reckoned that this particular poem would be a very suitable one to perform. This was because Neoptolemus wished to censure the expedition of Philip. He wanted to do this in spite of the many people who were of the opinion that it was great.

Now you think thoughts higher than air,

And think of cultivated fields extending over great plains

And build houses larger than men have built previously,

Estimating your life too great in your foolishness.

But there is someone who embraces the quick-footed runner,

Who goes along a dark path,

And suddenly, unseen, comes upon him

And takes away the long-held hopes

Of mortal men, Death, the source of much trouble.

Neoptolemus then finished his poem. Philip was very much pleased with this performance. Therefore, he praised the actor greatly, of which Neoptolemus was very thankful.

The banquet was now over and, on the next day, the games took place. Many of the citizens were very eager to attend. Therefore, they had hurried to the theatre whilst the moon was still high up in the sky. Soon, a procession started to take place.

Philip had ordered, some time ago, for twelve statues to be constructed. There were twelve of these statues and they all represented a different on of the gods. These wonderfully decorated statues were sculpted excellently, so much so that Philip had the firm belief that the gods themselves would be proud of them. In addition, there was also a thirteenth statue which accompanied the twelve statues of the gods. This statue was of a man wearing a robe, who had a laurel wreath on his head. He had a well groomed beard and everyone knew instantly that it was Philip.

When Philip entered the theatre, it was more or less full. Hardly a single seat had been left empty. Philip came in whilst wearing his white clothes. He had chosen this particular colour because he wanted to be viewed as divine and pure; like the gods themselves.

"Sir," a gruff voice said.

Philip turned around to see three of his personal bodyguards trying to catch up with him. "I do not require you to stand so close to me, men," he said dismissively.

"But, sir. It is dangerous-"one of the bodyguards began.

He was, however, cut off by Philip. "That is enough, man. I have no need for your protection all the time."

"Are you sure, my lord?" The man said, not giving up.

"Yes," Philip said angrily. "I am quite sure."

The bodyguards exchanged confused looks with each other, before finally falling back a little behind Philip. Still, though, they continued to walk with the king, but at a greater distance than they had been doing before.

Watching the king approach from nearby, Pausanias of Orestis smiled contemptibly at the sight. He stood up and then proceeded to walk over to the king.

Philip caught sight of him approaching. "Ah… Pausanias!" He exclaimed, being glad that his favourite bodyguard was with him.

Pausanias came to a stop and then stepped forward. He leant forward and planted his lips firmly on the king's. At first, the king resisted, but he soon gave in. He quickly realised that they were in a very public place and that both Olympias and Alexander would most definitely be able to see him. He was just about to push the man off of him when he became aware of a tremendous pain in his abdomen. He managed to release himself from Pausanias' grasp and he looked down to see a bright red circle quickly forming just below his chest. He reached down and felt that it was wet and still warm. He crumbled to his knees.

Instantly, the bodyguards of his who had been instructed to fall back a little, ran forward with a great deal of urgency. They pushed the shocked spectators away from the area and bent down to tend to the king.

In the meantime, Pausanias had fled, with his Celtic dagger still clutched steadfastly in his right hand. He had managed to find his way out of the crowded theatre and was now running to the place where he had kept his horse. However, he quickly noticed that his steed was no longer there and he had no other choice but to change his direction and he started to flee on foot.

He ran faster than he ever had done before in his life. He could hear, very clearly, the urgent voice of the soldiers who were running after him. He could tell that they were frighteningly close. He turned his head, whilst still running, to see how far away they had. However, he found that he had lost his footing and his foot was caught in a long, tangled green vine. He tried desperately to untie the vine, but it was far too persistent. Before he could even curse, a group of men were stood over him. He closed his eyes and braces himself for what was to come. One of them, Perdiccas, had drawn his sword and thrust it deep into Pausanias' abdomen. The man let out a short cry and then his body went limp and his world went black.

Perdiccas blinked and tried to reconcile himself, as he had just murdered one of his friends and comrades.

Meanwhile, Alexander and his mother had seen the event take place. Alexander tore free of his mother's grasp and ran over to see his father. He had gotten there as fast as he could. However, the king was already dead before he had reached him. Alexander felt the rage starting to build up inside of him and he let out a deafening scream.

Hephaestion walked gingerly over to him and comforted him. Alexander buried his head deep in his friend's chest, as he was a little shorter than Hephaestion and sniffed. Alexander finally managed to control himself. He stood up, with Hephaestion at his side and Hephaestion held up Alexander's arm, so that it was high above his head. "The king!" Hephaestion declared at full volume. "The new king! May the gods praise Alexander!"

Everyone in the theatre had, for a brief moment, almost forgotten about the brutal murder of Philip, which had happened only minutes ago and they called out words of praise for their new ruler.


	7. The Indomitable Child (Bonus Chapter)

**A/N: This event is alleged to have happened, according to Plutarch, but he was not a contemporary of Alexander. **

**I also have posted this as a separate story, under 'The Indomitable Child.'**

Alexander glared at his friends. He ran his gaze over each of their faces. "What do you mean?" He ranted at them frustratingly.

At first, no one seemed to step forward. Seeing that no one was going to do so any time soon, Perdiccas cleared his throat. "Sire, everyone knows. It is forbidden to visit oracles today."

Alexander ignored this and simply scoffed. "And who orders this?"

Perdiccas' voice went a little quieter as he said, "The gods did, sire."

Alexander rolled his eyes and waved his hands, showing the companions that he wished them to leave him alone. They obeyed him, albeit, grudgingly, but Hephaestion stayed.

"I am serious, Hephaestion," Alexander said to him sharply.

Hephaestion smiled warily and said, "I do not doubt that."

"Then, what _is_ the problem?" Alexander questioned him.

Hephaestion was quiet for a short while, giving himself time to consider his answer. "Bad omens will surely occur if you ignore the god's wishes."

"They can hardly argue with a son of Zeus, can they?" Alexander retorted.

Hephaestion, discreetly, rolled his eyes. "The invasion will go fine."

"How can you possibly know that?" Alexander asked him.

He shrugged, saying, "I can't. Trust me though, I know you can win."

Alexander smiled thankfully. "It's good to know I have your support."

"Of course I give you my support. I have all faith in you," Hephaestion added happily.

"Still," Alexander continued. "I will have to speak to the oracle if I am to be sure."

Hephaestion sighed and shook his head in annoyance. "Why will you not listen, Alexander?"

Alexander didn't reply and hurried out of the room. He managed to ignore Hephaestion's pleas for him to stop and think for a moment. Alexander charged over to the temple. The priestess was nowhere to be seen. He swore out of annoyance and ran to one of the priests who told him where she was. He went at once to her.

"You must consult the oracle!" He demanded.

She shook her head and replied on her soft, wary voice, "I will not do your bidding."

He grabbed her wrist and said angrily, "Oh, you will."

"The gods have made it clear that these are uncertain times," she replied, keeping calm.

His face twisted, his handsome features becoming lost for a fraction of a second. "That is why I wish to speak with the oracle."

"You must make your wishes known to the oracle before visiting," she reminded him.

Alexander, ever resourceful, saw a way around this. "Then, you can tell her before I arrive."

She scoffed and replied with an air of calm about her, "I most certainly will not."

He twisted her wrist with the little required force and pushed her against the temple wall. He was shorter than her and had to stand on his toes so that they could look each other in the eye. "Yes, you will. I am your king. You are sworn to obey me."

"You will not do anything to harm me, my king," she said derisively, though he could tell she was beginning to get nervous. "Your men say you are kind and thoughtful."

He sighed and released his grip, but kept her pressed against the wall. "Then speak to the oracle."

She, however, shook her head. "I will not."

Overwhelmed with frustration and anger, he shoved her into the wall. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his own. Their faces were almost touching. "You will speak to her. I am ordering you and you will do as I say."

"You are a child!" She yelled at him, trying to push him away from her. It was in vain. He was a soldier; too strong and powerful for her.

At last, he let go and stumbled backwards. He rubbed his temples in frustration. "Obey me!" He shouted at her. "Why will you not obey me?!"

"You are indomitable, boy!" She screeched at him.

He raised an eyebrow and was silent. After calming down a little, he said to her, between gritted teeth, "Speak to me. Call the oracle."

"You have your answer," she replied blandly and he reached out for her in desperation.

He shrunk back when the words hit him. "I am indomitable?"

She nodded and tilted her chin up. "Persia will kneel to you."

He frowned at the disheveled look on her face and cursed himself when he realised it was him who had caused her to be like that. He called for his guards to escort him back to the palace. Hephaestion was waiting for him when he got back.

"You didn't?" Hephaestion began cautiously, though he knew what the answer was going to be. Alexander didn't listen to anyone.

Alexander nodded sincerely.

"I said you should not have," Hephaestion warned him.

Alexander, despite most of him, grinned and announced, "I will rule all of Persia."

"So you spoke to the oracle?" Hephaestion asked cautiously.

Alexander replied nonchalantly, "Not as such."

"You aren't supposed to do that now. It is going against the wish of the gods!" Hephaestion said angrily, but reining in his temper.

"The priestess told me. She said Persia will kneel," Alexander relayed.

"She told you this? She wouldn't dare ignore the gods," Hephaestion said.

"She told me," Alexander elaborated. "Her king."

"She is bound to the gods. She would not disrespect them in such a manner," Hephaestion said, trying to remain logical. "What did you do to make her tell you?"

"I did nothing," Alexander said simply.

"Nothing?" Hephaestion added warily.

"Nothing," Alexander said stubbornly. "I asked her. She answered. She knows the consequences for disobeying her king."

"Alexander, you should not have done that," Hephaestion said frustratingly.

"I am king now, Hephaestion. I can do as I please. I don't need anyone else's permission or help," he said, without thinking at all.

Hephaestion shrank back in annoyance. His eyes clouded with tears and he went weak. He felt hurt. Alexander could see that he was hurt. He started over to him and put hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," Alexander muttered.

Hephaestion studied his face and said adamantly, "You think that you are untouchable. You think you don't need anyone's help. But, you do."

Alexander put his hand to Hephaestion's cheek and regarded his face in silence. "I need you, Hephaestion. I am sorry. I just want to prove to everyone that I am worthy of this kingship. That I am divine. That my father could be proud of me."

"I am proud of you, Alexander," Hephaestion reminded him.


	8. The new king

CHAPTER 7: 336BC: THE NEW KING 1923

Alexander was sat in his study. He had been staring essentially mindlessly at a set of papers which had been placed before him. He was tapping his quill against the parchment, with his hand resting firmly under his chin.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. He turned around and saw that it was someone at the door. It was Hephaestion. "What is it?" Alexander asked him as he put his quill down on the table.

Hephaestion took a tentative little step forward. "My king-" he began slowly.

Alexander, however, cut him off rather abruptly. "Don't address me like that," he said in a warning tone of voice.

"But," Hephaestion answered him. "You are the king," he finished off.

Alexander sighed and put his head in his hands. "I know that Hephaestion, I do. But, I do not agree with the circumstances."

Hephaestion walked over to him a little further. He was now stood directly opposite the king. "Alexander, you couldn't have done anything to save Philip's life," he said, wanting desperately to provide aid to the king in any way in which he could.

"I know Hephaestion," Alexander replied quietly with a sullen expression on his face. "I know."

"Then," Hephaestion continued to talk. "Try not to dwell so much on it," he finished.

Alexander shook his head in dismay. "I cannot forget what has happened to my father; to our king," he replied defiantly.

Hephaestion smiled through thin lips. He then replied, "I am not asking you to forget, Alexander. I just do not wish for you to have your mind so consumed by these things."

"I am sorry, Hephaestion," Alexander said in an apologetic tone of voice. He then changed the topic, sensing that that was what Hephaestion was hoping to happen. "What was it that you came here for?" He asked his friend.

Hephaestion responded by saying, "The Illyrians are growing tired of their taxes." He looked down at the floor for a brief moment and then back up at Alexander.

Alexander breathed out deeply and then said, "Tell them their taxes will be cut short."

"For how long?" Hephaestion asked him, feeling confused.

Alexander thought for a moment about how he should answer and then replied, "For this quarter."

Hephaestion sighed and felt his brow furrow. He was just about to leave the room when Alexander stopped him.

"I don't suppose you could help me with this, could you?" Alexander said to him quietly.

Hephaestion felt a little smile creep across his lips. He stopped walking and went back over to where Alexander was stood. "Of course I can," he replied, smilingly.

Alexander handed over the sheets of parchment to him and Hephaestion looked at them with a confused expression on his face. "You haven't written anything," he observed bluntly.

"I know, I know," Alexander said tiredly. "I do not know what to write," he then added.

"What is it you are supposed to be writing?" Hephaestion asked him curiously.

Alexander sighed and then said in a quiet register, I don't know."

Hephaestion let loose a short chuckle and he looked at his friend. "Then, if you do not know, don't write anything," he advised him.

Alexander considered this and then he, too, smiled. "You give very good advice, Hephaestion," he said kindly.

Hephaestion beamed and said, "Thank you, sire."

"I have already told you, Hephaestion," Alexander said, sounding slightly grave as his did so this time. "I do not want to be addressed as such."

Hephaestion didn't say anything in response. Instead, he just smiled again. However, this did not really annoy Alexander all that much. He was too close with Hephaestion to tell him off for not apologising over some frankly quite ridiculous thing. And so, he let it slip by. Besides, in Alexander's eyes, Hephaestion had always had a simply brilliant smile.

After some time, Hephaestion said to his king, "Do you enjoy being king of all of Macedonia?"

Alexander's eyes flickered upwards and his facial expression quickly became one of loose thought and consideration. "If I am honest with you, Hephaestion," he began slowly. "I had expected being king to carry with it more benefits."

"What do you mean?" Hephaestion asked his friend quizzically.

"I thought," Alexander clarified his meaning. "That if I were king, then I could do things which I could not even dream of doing when I was only prince."

Hephaestion nodded his head in a thoughtful manner. "Ah," he realised quietly. "Surely, though," he carried on talking. "There are at least a few things, are there not?"

Alexander gave a slight nod and then he replied, "To some extent, yes."

At that precise moment, another knock came at the door. Alexander turned his head and said in a brisk, authoritative voice, "Come."

A man walked into the room and saw that it was Cleitus. At his side was Callisthenes. "Sire," Cleitus began slowly. "Your mother has sent some gifts for you," he continued.

"Gifts?" Alexander repeated, puzzled. "What sort of gifts?"

Callisthenes smiled and then said, "All I can say is that I would be very happy indeed if my mother sent me 'gifts' such as these."

Hephaestion frowned and then exchanged a confused look with Alexander.

"And," Callisthenes carried on. "A letter from Olympias has also come for you." He held out the piece of faded parchment and handed it over to Alexander. Alexander took it from him and simply set it down on his desk. He did not read it, nor did he even open it.

The door opened more widely and three women walked into the room. They were stunning in appearance. They were all dressed in multi-coloured robes, which draped down to their feet. Callisthenes had a very gormless expression on his face whilst looking at them and Cleitus had to elbow him hard in the side to remind him to behave.

Alexander stood up and walked over slowly to the women. He scrutinized them deeply, but he didn't touch them. "How strange my mother is," he announced. "To send me these as gifts!"

Hephaestion furrowed his brow heavily, but remained where he was.

"Your mother said you may choose one to take as your concubine," Cleitus stated bluntly.

Alexander shook his head and replied to him, "I do not want a concubine." He looked over at Callisthenes and said to him, "Here, you may have one."

Callisthenes smiled broadly and waltzed over to where the women were stood motionlessly. He seemed to inspect them all but then he finally settled for the youngest one. She was more or less the same age as him, around the age of twenty-five.

"Only if you are to treat her well," Alexander added as he looked scornfully at Callisthenes.

The young commander nodded quickly and said, "You have my word, sire."

Cleitus frowned and said to his king, "Alexander, do you not want your… gifts?"

Alexander shook his head. "No, I do not," he replied.

"What should I tell Olympias?" He asked him another question.

"That is no care of mine, Cleitus," he stated bluntly.

Cleitus puckered his brow heavily and then said, "As you wish, sire." He then proceeded to lead the women, and Callisthenes out of the room.

All of the women in question seemed to be a little annoyed that Alexander had not wanted them. That is, apart from the woman who was now with Callisthenes.

"Why did you not take them?" Hephaestion questioned his friend once they had now been left alone again.

Alexander looked at Hephaestion sternly and then said simply, "Because I do not want them. I have no need for them."

"I am sure you could find a purpose for them," Hephaestion said with a slight grin.

Alexander smiled in response, noticing Hephaestion's point. "Yes, but I don't require them, do I? It is Persians who pride themselves in their pleasure. Not us Macedonians," he reminded him.

Hephaestion nodded and then said, "I suppose so."

"When I want a woman, I will want her as my wife. Not as a concubine or a mistress," Alexander stated.

Hephaestion said agreeably, "If only all men thought like you, Alexander." And he smiled.

Alexander was fingering the letter which had been supposedly sent by Olympias, to him. He picked at the royal seal every now and then, and got annoyed when the read sticky material got stuck under his fingernails, even though he knew that he really only had himself to blame for that.

"Are you not going to open it?" Hephaestion asked him. He was, in fact, just about as eager as Alexander himself was to find out what exactly was written in the letter from Olympias.

Alexander, once he had finished picking out part of the red seal from underneath his finer nails, nodded and replied, "Perhaps I should." He pulled the seal off of the envelope and then pulled out the letter. It was written on high-quality, royal parchment, although there was still evidence of the fact that it seemed to be quite a worn down material. Alexander noticed that there were a few scorch marks on two of the corners of the letter and he instantly realised that the letter must have gotten very close to a fire. He was right, Olympias had been very close to actually throwing the letter in to the fire.

He opened up the letter and began to read it closely and intently. His eyes never strayed away from the page.

Alexander, I hope you are appreciative of my gift to you. I understand that you may not wish for this to be so, but I am worried about you. With every minute that passes us by, the need for an heir to the throne of Macedonia gets greater and greater.

I am afraid that you spend too much time with that friend of yours, Hephaestion. I do understand that it is natural for a young boy to be indecisive, but a relationship of that kind cannot yield any favourable consequences to either parties involved. You are of age, Alexander, and have been for quite some time. You need a wife, my son. A wife to provide an heir for you.

These woman whom I have sent to you are all acceptable choices. Cleopatra would have been an ideal wife for you, had your father not gotten to her first. However, a marriage to any of these women will be sure to extend Macedonia's empire and influence into greater regions.

The letter closed off. There was no goodbye and no signed name. Alexander looked at the letter in plain disgust and then thrust it away from him, to the back of his desk. He sighed heavily and let out a short and quiet moan.

"You saw what she wrote, didn't you?" Alexander asked Hephaestion.

Hephaestion, who had been stood closely by Alexander, had easily been able to read the letter over his shoulder. "I did, yes," he replied shyly.

Alexander said to him, "Do not believe what she says. I don't care what she thinks."

"What she thinks about what?" Hephaestion asked him curiously. He cocked his head to one side ever so slightly.

"About you, Hephaestion," Alexander clarified simply. "I don't care about what her or what other people say. You are my friend, Hephaestion."

"And, you are mine, Alexander," Hephaestion added cheerfully.

"I would sooner have you as a friend than have the most beautiful and most powerful woman known to man as a wife," Alexander said.

Little more than a week had passed. Alexander had settled into the role of king, whether he wanted it or not. He was troubled. Many oracles had passed his way. They were strange and he did not know what they meant. He had asked Hephaestion, Cleitus and Parmenion, but none of them knew what the omens could signify. They had dismissed it as superstition, but Alexander wouldn't let it go that easily.

Alexander looked up at the companions stood before him. They each looked somewhat guilty and did not seem to want to meet his gaze. Perdiccas stepped forward, slightly. "You can't go, Alexander. No one can."

"It has been decreed. The law has passed. This is a sacred day," Hephaestion added.

Alexander glared at his friends. He ran his gaze over each of their faces. "What do you mean?" He ranted at them frustratingly.

Hephaestion shrank back a little. He knew when Alexander was angry. Callisthenes elbowed Perdiccas to say something. Perdiccas scowled at him and then cleared his throat and continued, "Sire, everyone knows. It is forbidden to visit oracles."

Alexander ignored this and simply scoffed. "And who orders this?"

Perdiccas' voice went a little quieter as he said, "The gods did, sire."

Alexander rolled his eyes and waved his hands, showing the companions that he wished them to leave him alone. They obeyed him, albeit, begrudgingly. Hephaestion stayed.

"I am serious, Hephaestion," Alexander said to him sharply.

Hephaestion smiled warily and said, "I do not doubt that."

"Then, what is the problem?" Alexander questioned him.

Hephaestion was quiet for a short while, giving himself time to consider his answer. "Bad ones will surely occur if you ignore the god's wishes."

He had already seen many omens. A few more would not cause him anymore discomfort. "They can hardly argue with a son of Zeus, can they?" Alexander retorted.

Hephaestion, discreetly, rolled his eyes. "The invasion will go fine."

"How can you possibly know that?" Alexander asked him.

He shrugged, saying, "I can't. Trust me though, I know you can win."

Alexander smiled thankfully. "It's good to know I have your support."

"Of course I give you my support. I have all faith in you," Hephaestion added happily.

"Still," Alexander continued, remembering his point. "I will have to speak to the oracle if I am to be sure."

Hephaestion sighed and shook his head in annoyance. "Why will you not listen, Alexander?"

Alexander didn't reply and hurried out of the room. He managed to ignore Hephaestion's pleas for him to stop and think for a moment. Alexander charged over to the temple. The priestess was nowhere to be seen. He swore out of annoyance and ran to one of the priests who told him where she was. He went at once to her.

"You must consult the oracle!" He demanded.

She shook her head and replied on her soft voice, "I will not do your bidding."

He grabbed her wrist and said angrily, pushing his face against hers, "Oh, you will."

"The gods have made it clear that these are uncertain times," she replied, keeping calm. His eyes startled her. Above everything else, that was what made her nervous. Not the fact that he was close enough that she could feel his heart beating against her own chest. His eyes; one as black as Hades and the other as bright as Olympus itself. One was piercingly blue and the other was too dark to read.

His face twisted, his handsome features becoming lost for a fraction of a second. "That is why I wish to speak with the oracle."

"You must make your wishes known to the oracle before visiting," she reminded him. He may have been the king, but the oracle made no exceptions.

Alexander saw a way around this. "Then, you can tell her before I arrive."

She scoffed and replied with an air of calm about her, "I most certainly will not."

He twisted her wrist easily and pressed her against the temple wall. He was shorter than her and he had to stand on his toes so that they could look each other in the eye. "Yes, you will. I am your king. You are sworn to obey me."

"You will not do anything to harm me, my king," she said derisively, though he could tell she was beginning to get nervous. "Your men say you are kind and thoughtful."

He sighed and released his grip, but kept her pressed against the wall. "Then speak to the oracle."

She, however, shook her head. "I will not."

Overwhelmed with frustration and anger, he shoved her into the wall. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his own. Their faces were almost touching. "You will speak to her. I am ordering you and you will do as I say."

"You are a child!" She yelled at him, trying to push him say from him. It was in vain. He was a soldier; to strong and powerful for her.

At last, he let got and faltered backwards. He rubbed his temples in frustration. "Obey me!" He shouted at her. "Why will you not obey me?!"

"You are indomitable, boy!" She screeched at him.

He raised an eyebrow and was silent. After calming down a little, he said to her, between gritted teeth, "Speak to me. Call the oracle."

"You have your answer," she replied blandly and he reached out for her in desperation.

He shrunk back. "I am indomitable?"

He nodded and tilted her chin up. "Persia will kneel to you."

He frowned at the dishevelled look on her face and cursed himself when he realised it was him who had caused her to be like that. He called for his guards to escort him back to the palace. Hephaestion was waiting for him when he got back.

"You didn't?" Hephaestion began cautiously, though he knew what the answer was going to be. Alexander didn't listen to anyone.

Alexander nodded sincerely.

"I said you should not have," Hephaestion warned him.

Alexander grinned and announced, "I will rule all of Persia."

"So you spoke to the oracle?" Hephaestion asked cautiously.

Alexander replied nonchalantly, "Not as such."

"You aren't supposed to do that now. It is going against the will of the gods!" Hephaestion said angrily. "You have angered them, Alexander."

"The priestess told me. She said Persia will kneel," Alexander relayed.

"She told you this? She wouldn't dare ignore the gods," Hephaestion said.

"She told me," Alexander elaborated.

"She is bound to the gods. She would not disrespect them in such a manner," Hephaestion said, trying to remain logical. "What did you do to make her tell you?"

"I did nothing," Alexander said simply.

"Nothing?" Hephaestion related.

"Nothing," Alexander said stubbornly. "I asked her. She answered. She knows the consequences for disobeying her king.

"Alexander, you should not have done that," Hephaestion said frustratingly.

"I am king now, Hephaestion. I can do as I please. I don't need anyone else's permission or help," he said, without thinking at all.

Hephaestion shrank back in annoyance. His eyes clouded with tears and he went weak. He felt hurt. Alexander could see that he was hurt. He started over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," Alexander muttered.

Hephaestion studied his face and said adamantly, "You think that you are untouchable. You think you don't need anyone's help. But, you do."

Alexander's voice faltered. "I need you, Hephaestion. I am sorry. I need to prove to everyone that I am worthy of this kingship. That I am divine. That my father could be proud of me."

"I am proud of you, Alexander," Hephaestion reminded him.


	9. The meeting with Diogenes

CHAPTER 8: 336BC: THE MEETING WITH DIOGENES 2150

"Your first expedition as king, sire," Hephaestion reminded his king as they walked, together, out of the main grounds of the royal palace.

Alexander gave his friend a short, slightly nervous smile. "Thank you for reminding me, Hephaestion," he said, whilst sounding rather grave as he did so.

"Have you ever been to Corinth before?" Hephaestion asked Alexander as the both of them walked over to the royal stable houses.

Alexander paused to think for a while, and then he replied, "I have, yes. But I was only a boy then."

Hephaestion smiled and said solemnly, "I don't think I have."

"Well," Alexander said, in an attempt to boost the sunken morale of his friend. "Now you are going to."

Hephaestion beamed.

The two of them looked over their horses. Alexander was patting Bucephalus caringly on the neck. He was also checking him for ticks and fleas, at the same time as brushing down the almighty mane of the black stallion. Hephaestion's horse was brown and had a little white star on its forehead, just in between its hazel coloured eyes. The horse was just a little bit smaller than Bucephalus, but, nonetheless, it rode equally as nobly and bravely.

Alexander noticed some of his companions walking over to him. And soon, he was greeted by Callisthenes, Cassander, Philotas and Perdiccas. Their horses were all stood side by side, and were braying quite loudly. Each man came over to soothe his horse and then they all mounted them.

Alexander had finally finished combing Bucephalus' coat and he set the brush down on the side. The two stable boys who were stood close by exchanged rather amused looks.

Alexander gave the order and swiftly, the entire ensemble had trotted out of the stables and emerged in the courtyard. They waited for the guards to open the gates and then they dug their heels into the flanks of their steeds and began galloping away from Pella.

The journey was indeed quite a long one. The terrain was rough and the horses had to keep stopping for breaks every now and then. They would whinny and bray and buck their heads. They were all accustomed, naturally, to the heat of Pella but, as they had been travelling for many hours, they were beginning to feel the heat even more. When he realised that Bucephalus would be getting tired, Alexander patted him on his neck and whispered encouraging words to him, in the hope of inspiring the horse to go on just a little further.

"We should rest, sire," Cassander warned the king as he galloped over to Alexander.

Alexander shielded his eyes from the intense sun by periodically taking his hands from off of the reins and holding it up to his forehead. He looked at Cassander and nodded. His horse came to a casual trot and the rest of his companions mimicked his movements.

"We will rest here," Alexander called out to his men, who had been travelling behind him.

They all looked very pleased and thankful when they had heard Alexander say that. They stopped by some trees and dismounted their horses. The horses wandered around a bit until, after walking for a few hundred meters, they reached a river and began to lap up the water. Hephaestion sighed and jogged over to Alexander, who was, by now, already well on his way to reaching the horses at the edge of the river.

Alexander found a group of rather spindly trees and he flopped down on the grass. Hephaestion went over to join him.

"We must have travelled quite far," Hephaestion pointed out to Alexander.

Alexander nodded in agreement and then replied, "I seem to remember Aristotle once telling me that it was eighty leagues to Corinth, from Pella."

Hephaestion rolled his eyes and leant back against the thin trunk of the tree. "Still quite a bit to go, then," he muttered.

Alexander smiled at his friend and closed his eyes.

Perdiccas, after taking off his sandals, walked over to them and sat down next to Hephaestion. "You ought to be careful not to break the tree," he stated to him.

Hephaestion stared blankly at the man and then looked over his shoulder to see that the tree was bending quite considerably as a result of his weight being on it. "I will," he answered Perdiccas.

A few metres away, Cassander was trying to catch fish in the stream. It was very exciting for him, because he had never even been away from Pella before. After realising that he would probably not get much out of stabbing wildly at the fish with his small dagger, he went over to his horse and picked out the spear. He went back over to the riverside and continued to jab at the terrified fish with his long spear. He cursed himself for not bringing his sarissa with him.

Meanwhile, Alexander was still trying to get some rest under the forgiving shade of the tree. He yawned and took off his cuirass and placed it neatly on the ground in front of him. He stretched and then leant back on the tree.

"Uh… Alexander?" Hephaestion whispered after half an hour or so.

The king sat bolt upright and looked at his friend, with concern written all over his face. "What is it?" He asked him nervously.

Hephaestion smiled and then replied to him, "You were leaning on me."

Alexander felt his cheeks begin to get hot and he realised that he was blushing. He allowed his eyes a brief amount of time to adjust to the still blazing brightness of the high sun and then he said to his friend, "Sorry."

Perdiccas had left them quite some time ago. He had the most armour on, so he had gotten the hottest. He had stripped off and was wading around leisurely in the river. Philotas, however, was not doing such things. He was stood by the river edge with the horses, keeping watch.

"Maybe we should get going," Alexander suggested to his men as he stood up to stretch again and put his cuirass back on. Hephaestion got to his feet to and went over to see Philotas and the horses. Perdiccas put his clothes and armour back on and then he walked over to Cassander, who was still stabbing rather angrily at the petrified fish with his spear. He put a hand on his shoulder and Cassander looked up at him with a rather embarrassed look on his face.

Alexander went over to Bucephalus and mounted, as did the companions. They kicked their horses' sides and began to continue their journey to Corinth.

"It can't be that much farther," Cassander said as he bumped about on his saddle. He was not a very experienced rider and had to keep reaching out for his horse's mane. However, he was not very skilled at steering the horse either, which meant that, whenever they entered rough terrain, he would be practically forced into groping the horse's neck and mane for some sort of handling of the animal.

Alexander and Hephaestion exchanged amused looks with each other. "It is twenty leagues away, Cassander," Alexander stated to him.

The young Cassander harrumphed and settled back into his saddle, albeit, with much uncomfortableness.

"Twenty leagues is not really that far," Perdiccas said to Cassander.

Cassander frowned and then smiled through thin lips. He was not really all that convinced with either Alexander or Perdiccas' words.

Finally, after three days of solid riding, they had only half a league left to travel. "See, Cassander?" Perdiccas said to the young man. "We have only a short distance left to go."

Cassander smiled at him wanly. "I suppose so," he said, sounding bored and fed up.

The half league journey quickly came to an end and they were greeted by cheers of local people. Alexander raised his hand, out of respect, for a group of beggars who came hobbling over to them. Alexander paused to consider it for a short moment and then he handed over to them a few coins. They took them greedily and thanked him greatly. He smiled and waved them off.

Soon, they came to a deserted little village, which was situated towards the east of Corinth. Alexander got off his horse and his companions dismounted as well.

"I hear that this is where Diogenes spends most of his time," Philotas told Alexander.

Alexander nodded thoughtfully. "I have heard that too," he replied simply.

"Diogenes of Sinope?" Hephaestion asked Philotas.

Parmenio's son nodded and said to him, "The very same."

"We should pay him a visit, should we not?" Alexander put the suggestion to his companions.

All of them nodded, except for Hephaestion. He frowned slightly and then said to his king, "If you are so sure. But, I myself, fail to see what we should gain from such a visit."

Alexander grinned at his friend and then said, "What is the harm?"

Hephaestion simply shrugged and saw the relevance in what Alexander had just said to him.

Diogenes of Sinope was found by Alexander and his companions to be reclining on the ground near to a few shrivelled trees which looked as though they had definitely seen better days. He had his head rested on a rock which was covered greatly in rock. It was so covered that neither Alexander nor his friends could tell whether or not the rock was actually green in colour normally.

"Are you Diogenes?" Alexander addressed the old man as he walked over to him, taking tentative steps.

The elderly man sat up from his reclining position and blinked instantly in response to the blazing sunlight. He shielded the sun's bright rays from his eyes and then looked up at the young man who was now stood before him. "I am," he replied. "Not that it is any of your business."

Hephaestion, Perdiccas and Philotas each exchanged puzzled and concerned looks with one another. Cassander, however, was marvelling at the beautiful view of the oceans which he could just about make out to be lapping away at the sands over in the far distance.

Alexander frowned and then said, staying completely calm, "I will ignore that remark."

Diogenes cocked his head a little to one side and said simply, "If you would like. You're not the king. Why should I speak nicely to you?"

Alexander looked at Hephaestion, who simply shrugged his shoulders. "I am the king," Alexander stated bluntly to the old man.

Diogenes of Sinope just rolled his eyes and said, "No matter." He was just about to lie down again when he asked Alexander, "What is it you are doing in this dreary place?"

"I am aware of your services to my father," Alexander said.

"Your father?" Diogenes asked.

"Yes," Alexander clarified.

"Who was he?"

Alexander was simply stunned by the fact that this man did not know who his father was. For, as far as he knew, he was famous, as Philip was also, across the known world. "Philip, the king of Macedonia," he said. "Before me," he then added.

"Before you?" Diogenes echoed, obviously confused by this. "Why? What has happened?"

Alexander bowed his head slightly and he tried to collect his thoughts. He sighed and then said slowly, "He is dead. I am king now." He looked over at Hephaestion, who offered him a slight, encouraging smile.

Diogenes raised his head slightly in realisation. "Ah, yes. Philip," he said simply, not really thinking that much of it at all.

Alexander was quiet for a moment, so that he could remember his place and then he continued. "Therefore, I am willing to fulfil any wish of yours," he furthered his point.

"In that case," Diogenes said slyly. "I wish for you to stand out of my light."

Alexander knitted his brow and Hephaestion walked over to him, blocking the sun even more, which caused Diogenes to mutter, "Oh, not you as well."

Hephaestion somewhat scowled at the elderly man with the white beard. Alexander warned Hephaestion to calm down, which he did, to some extent. Alexander then motioned for Hephaestion to step back from the resting philosopher. Hephaestion did so and Alexander did the same, after saying, "As you wish," to Diogenes.

As they left, a slight smile crept across Diogenes' wrinkled face.

"Sire, you should not have let him treat you like that, Perdiccas said to the king warningly.

Alexander smiled and replied, "Should I have had him strung up? Just because he is not as polite as everyone else?"

With that, Perdiccas shrank back and said no more about it.

"He was certainly an interesting gentleman," Hephaestion said to Alexander quietly.

Alexander replied, with a smile, "That, he most certainly was. But, if I were not Alexander," he then added. "I would be Diogenes."

Hephaestion frowned and said, "I find that hard to believe, sire."

"So do I," Alexander said, grinning.


	10. Alexander and Achilles

CHAPTER 9: 334BC: ALEXANDER AND ACHILLES 3334

The day was a swelteringly hot one in the middle of April. The sun seemed to everyone to be shining in all directions. No one and nothing could seem to be in with a chance of escaping its bright and almost even blinding glare.

In the royal stable houses, well out of the way of the blazing sunlight, they packed their belongings onto their horses. Alexander squinted in the intense brightness of the sun and then patted his horse on the neck. He smiled.

"Sire?" Perdiccas called out to his king as he walked over to him.

Alexander spun around and regarded him. "Yes, Perdiccas?"

"The men wish to know if you are ready," Perdiccas explained to him.

The king paused for a moment and then he sorted out the saddle which he was trying to put on Bucephalus neatly. He then looked at Perdiccas, after fastening the golden saddle and then said, "Yes. Tell them we can leave now."

Perdiccas looked at the king for a brief moment and then he proceeded to walk over to the rest of the companions. Only a few of them would be joining Alexander on his journey, this time. He king himself had taken the liberty of appointing only the best commanders to be accompanying him on his travels. He had, of course, allowed his personal feelings and opinions to somehow get in the way of his judgement.

"I can't say that I agree with Hephaestion coming," Coenus whispered to Cassander as they both mounted their mightily powerful steeds almost simultaneously.

Cassander knitted his brow a little and then turned to face Coenus. "Why do you say that?" He asked him, with a rather confused expression on his young face.

Coenus dropped the volume of his voice even more than he had already been doing and he answered, "Because… he is not a particularly skilled soldier."

Cassander shook his head and then said, "No… that cannot be true. Alexander chose us, and indeed Hephaestion to accompany him because he thinks that we are the best companions." Cassander paused for a moment and was also silent, so as to ensure himself time enough to think about what he had just said to Coenus.

"You are truly deluded, Cassander. If you believe that," Coenus said with a smirk. He stroked his horse's brown mane and looked around the stable for a short time.

Cassander frowned and then cocked his head to one side slightly. "What do you mean?" He asked him, quite obviously very confused at what Coenus had just said.

Coenus let out a discreet sigh. "Everyone in the court knows," he began quietly. "That Alexander has a… certain fondness for Hephaestion," he then concluded.

Just at that moment, when Cassander was trying to wrap his head around what it was that Coenus had just said, Alexander made his way over to them at a quite brisk pace. "Would you care to repeat that, Coenus?" He demanded from the elder companion.

Coenus frowned heavily and then he sighed. "Sorry, sire, I didn't mean to-"

Alexander, however, was having none of it whatsoever. He cut him off mid-sentence and said, "I don't care. If you have a problem with Hephaestion and I, then I don't want you in my court," he said defiaintly.

Coenus bowed his head apologetically and said, in a quiet tone of voice, "I am sorry, my lord."

Alexander shook his head out of distrust and deep frustration. He then went back over to where Bucephalus was stood obediently, eating some hay. He mounted his dark horse and then trotted out of the stables. "Men, we ride now," he stated to them.

Perdiccas, Cassander, Coenus and Hephaestion all trotted out behind him. Hephaestion ordered his horse to increase its pace and soon the horse broke into a full canter. He slowed down once he was beside Alexander.

The guards all gave their respect to Alexander and his four companions and then they lifted up the gate. The king and his chosen men were now able to begin their journey away from Pella, the capital and central city of all of Macedonia.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion called out to the king as he finally matched his speed with Alexander. His horse was not as powerful as Bucephalus was and Hephaestion was quickly beginning to notice this frankly quite frustrating inequality.

Alexander turned his head and looked at Hephaestion. However, he did not focus on his dear friend for that much time in one go. For, he knew that the road would be considerably uneven and that it would continue to be so. Therefore, he wanted to be able to see what sort of obstacles would be coming his way, if indeed there were any. "Yes, Hephaestion?" He called back to him.

Coenus, who was riding quite a bit further back, could hear their conversation. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I was curious as to why we are actually coming here," Hephaestion stated the fact bluntly as he looked at his king intently.

Alexander finally took his focus off of the road ahead of him and said, "I, too, am curious. That is why I have come."

Hephaestion frowned heavily. He was not really all that pleased nor satisfied with his king's response. However, they were riding at tremendous speed and their horses would soon tire from the constant galloping. So, he decided to just leave the topic there for the time being.

"I think Corinth was closer," Cassander observed through tired pants as his small horse continued to gallop through the desert path along with the rest of the companions and his king.

Alexander smiled and said to him, "I think you are right."

Cassander offered him a smile displayed through thin, parched lips. "Unfortunately," he muttered quietly.

"Oh, Cassander!" Alexander exclaimed as he ordered his horse to drop its speed slightly.

Cassander matched his speed, as did Hephaestion. There were now the three of them travelling at the front of the ensemble, with Perdiccas and Coenus left to their own devices towards the back.

Alexander continued, adding, "Do not despair, yet. We have not that far to go."

Cassander shrugged and then he ordered his horse to speed up. He was now quite a bit ahead of Alexander, Hephaestion, Coenus and Perdiccas.

Hephaestion heard his horse make a short, quiet whimpering sound. He patted him on the neck soothingly. "What's wrong?" He said to the stallion quietly.

The horse brayed slightly. Hephaestion let out a sigh which was rather too loud. He settled back into his saddle.

"Where you expecting it to reply?" Alexander jested at him.

Hephaestion smiled at him in response and said, this time with a much more solemn expression on his face, "I just wish he would cease making those noises."

The king offered him a king smile. "He is probably tired," he said to him agreeably. "Perhaps it would be a good idea if we rested for a while," he then suggested after a short amount of time had gone by. He slowed his horse's gallop down to a canter and then Hephaestion's horse, with some encouragement from his master, did the same.

Coenus and Perdiccas, who had been chatting about some irreverent topic, noticed that their king's speed had decreased. And so, they did the same. Alexander's horse came to a trot and his three companions copied him. Alexander looked around with a frown etched into his forehead and he then exclaimed, "Where is Cassander?"

Coenus, Hephaestion and Perdiccas all exchanged rather worried looks. "I don't know, Alexander," Hephaestion finally said to him in a quiet tone of voice.

The king sighed heavily. He called out, "Cassander!" He got no response. "Stay here," he ordered his companions. "I will go and find him," he then added.

Hephaestion could not help but worry as he watched his closest friend gallop off into the sunset in search of their lost comrade.

After a few more minutes of travelling aimlessly, Alexander came to a stop. "Cassander!" Alexander called out again, this time more loudly than previously.

He still got no audible response. Alexander bit his lip pit of anxiety. He cursed himself silently. The boy was only sixteen and now he was lost in the middle of nowhere. He sighed and then called out again, "Cassander!"

Then, suddenly, a short little yelp was comprehendible to Alexander. He dismounted Bucephalus and ordered the tired animal to stay where it was. It whinnied gently in response and Alexander patted the horse on its nose. Alexander walked around in the basically barren environment. He wandered over to a rock and sat down on it. He put his head in his hands and sighed heavily; annoyed and frustrated greatly with himself. He heard the noise again and he quickly registered that it was a cry for help.

"Cassander?" Alexander said again, his voice reduced to a slight whisper.

"Alexander?" A small, terrified sounding voice asked.

The king walked over in the direction of the setting sun for a few dozen metres and then he came to a sudden stop. He realised that if he had taken even one step further, he would have lost his footing and fallen into the ditch which lay directly in front of him. "Cassander?" He said cautiously as he recognised the boy who was sat at the bottom of the ditch, clutching his ankle.

"Sire!" Cassander exclaimed, his voice full of relief.

Alexander bent down at the edge of the ditch and said, "What are you doing down here?"

"Sorry, my lord," the boy rushed out apologetically. "My horse got spooked and it reared up, throwing me. I think it saw a snake or something. I'm sorry."

Alexander smiled understandingly and carefully made his way into ditch. "Can you not walk?" He asked him.

Cassander slowly got to his feet but as soon as he put weight down on his left foot, the ground seemed to him as though it were slipping out from underneath him. He winced and immediately lifted it up off the ground and the foot hovered. "No, sire. I cannot," he said embarrassedly.

Alexander walked cautiously and slowly into the ditch and then let the injured boy put his arm around his neck. He aided Cassander as they both walked out of the ditch. "You can walk to Bucephalus, can you not?" Alexander asked the boy.

The companion looked up at him and said, "I am sure I can." He put on a fake smile.

Alexander waited patiently as the boy hobbled over to the horse.

"He's been quite some time," Hephaestion said worriedly, back in the other direction.

Perdiccas rode over to him in a slow trot. "I am sure there is no need to worry," he said, trying to put the man's mind at ease.

Hephaestion raised an eyebrow and said, "Nonetheless, I think we should go."

Coenus let out a low, derisive snort.

The king's closest friend turned to face him and he stated angrily, "I am second-in-command. And, I am saying that we will go to try and find the king and Cassander."

At hearing that, Coenus stayed quiet. He, along with Perdiccas and Hephaestion, galloped off into the distance, in the direction in which Alexander had gone around thirty minutes earlier.

"Alexander!" Hephaestion called out gladly as he saw his king and Cassander standing by Bucephalus.

Alexander grinned and said to him, "Cassander is quite all right."

Cassander looked up at him and smiled thinly. "Thank you, sire," he said gratefully.

"Where has your horse gone?" Perdiccas asked the boy.

"He must have gotten spooked," Cassander suggested absently. "There was a snake," he added.

Hephaestion shivered. He hated snakes and indeed, anything that was even in the slightest bit reptilian. "We were going to rest, weren't we?" Hephaestion then asked his king.

Alexander considered the question for a moment. He realised that it did more or less sense to do so because Cassander was already in a bad way. Therefore, he would almost definitely be able to benefit from some time to rest. "Yes," he agreed. "We should."

He dismounted his horse and his companions did the same. They then walked over to some trees and sat down underneath their welcoming shade. Cassander, understandably, was the slowest and he finally hobbled over to the shade. He flopped down on a rock and closed his eyes.

"At least it is not cold," Alexander suggested as he took off his cuirass and dropped it to the floor beside him.

In response to this, Hephaestion shrugged. He, too, removed his silver plated cuirass. "We should not rest for long," he warned his king.

Alexander looked over at him and said, "I know, but we must. A journey is not all that pleasant when the participants are all tired."

His friend nodded and said, "You have always been the smartest, Alexander."

Alexander smiled and added, "Yes, but it is you who never let me win once in wrestling at Mieza."

Hephaestion gave him a wry smile. He then closed his eyes and settled down to lie on the ground. Perdiccas and Coenus, as well, were also trying to get some sleep.

Alexander suddenly felt something tickle his leg. He looked down and saw that it was an insect. A mosquito. He reached down his hand and squished the annoying bug. He looked at his hand, which still clearly bore the remains of the now dead creature. He wiped his hand on the grass and then grimaced.

At last, Alexander could finally rest. He closed his eyes and lay down on the grassy ground beside Hephaestion.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion asked him, with his eyes still closed. "Why are we coming here?"

"To Troy?" Alexander asked him.

Hephaestion nodded, saying wearily, "Uh huh."

"I want to see Achilles' tomb," he replied.

"And that of Patroclus?" Hephaestion prompted him.

Alexander gratefully accepted his friend's reminder to him. "Yes. And Patroclus' tomb too." He then closed his eyes and continued to sleep soundly. Hephaestion did much the same.

It had been a pleasant rest, with the exception of the mosquito. Alexander yawned and then opened his eyes. He blinked in the dim light of the sun and found that it was nearing night-time. "It is dusk," he said to his companions loudly.

The sound of his voice woke them all up and they all sat up, alarmed. "We should leave now," Perdiccas said to his king.

Alexander nodded slowly. He got to his feet, put his cuirass back on, as did Hephaestion, and then went over to Bucephalus. The horse was tied to a tree and was chewing at some dry grass with a blank facial expression.

"You can ride with me, if you so wish," Perdiccas offered to Cassander as the young man stood up.

Cassander smiled and he went a little red in the face. "That is very kind of you," he said thankfully. He then, with the help from Hephaestion, managed to settle into the saddle behind Perdiccas. Then, Alexander and Hephaestion mounted their own steeds, along with Coenus.

They then continued their ride. The journey was a long one. The distance between the might cities of Troy and Pella was indeed very great. The shortest possible route which they could have taken would have involved the sea and Alexander did not want to go by boat. He much preferred to travel by horse and on foot. And so, the companions had not complained and they had opted for the longer but more exciting land-based route.

"I did not think a league was that great," Cassander stated as they rode over some marshy ground.

Smiling, Perdiccas said, "You are not the one riding."

Cassander nodded and replied, "That is true."

Throughout their journey, he had fallen asleep on multiple occasions. He was quite tired because he had not really managed to get much of a solid sleep when they had all stopped to rest earlier on. So, he had closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting it fall onto Perdiccas' back, where it rested. This did, understandably, annoy Perdiccas. However, he knew that there was really not much point in him complaining, so he stayed quiet but did still try and shake Cassander off of him whenever he got the opportunity to do so.

"I think we are here," Alexander proclaimed as his horse came to a steady canter and then a trot. He jumped off of Bucephalus' glossy back and began to walk over to a marble and stone building. It was hardly even in a fit enough state to be called a building. It was in ruins and stones were crumbling down from it all over the place. Alexander drew his sword, being sure to let it slide quietly out from its sheath and then he walked inside the building.

Hephaestion looked over at Perdiccas and sighed. The two then dismounted and waited for Coenus and Cassander to catch up with them. The four of them then followed Alexander into the cave-like place.

There was no light, as it was already dusk outside. The sun had gone from view and now the moon ruled the skies. However, the air was still reasonably warm and humid. Alexander walked tentatively through the cavernous structure, with his sword held firmly in his right hand, poised and ready for anything or anyone that may happen to come his way. Then, he saw what he was looking for. "It is here!" He exclaimed with glee as he waited for his companions to come to him.

"What is?" Cassander asked him, cocking his head to one side.

Alexander signalled for the young man to come over to him, which Cassander did. Alexander then motioned to the two large stone boxes and said, his voice full of wonderment, "This, Cassander, is the tomb of Achilles. And this," he added as he gestured to the other, slightly smaller one. "Is the tomb of Patroclus."

Hephaestion walked over to Alexander and Cassander. "This is most extraordinary," he stated as he took a look around the dully room.

Coenus and Perdiccas did not really share much of an interest in this spectacle. They had told the king that the two of them would keep watch. Alexander agreed and let them do so.

Alexander placed his hand compassionately on top of the tomb in which the ashes of Achilles were supposedly laid to rest and he sighed.

"What is wrong?" Hephaestion asked him as he walked over to him, gingerly.

Alexander shook his head and said, "This is the greatest of all heroes and yet, here he is, imprisoned in this stone tomb."

Hephaestion smiled wanly and put his arm on his friend's shoulder. "Maybe you will rival his achievements," he suggested.

Warmly, Alexander smiled and looked at his friend. "Maybe," he said distantly.

"It is very cold here," Cassander said as he shivered and clutched his arms.

"Then you can go outside and try to catch the last of the sun," Alexander called to him.

Cassander nodded happily and then hobbled out of the dilapidated structure.

"Even Achilles could not have achieved so much without Patroclus," Alexander mused.

Hephaestion regarded him and said, "That is how I should like to die. Like Patroclus did, I think."

Alexander looked at him, concerned. "Don't leave me, Hephaestion," he said, sounding worried.

"I will try not to," Hephaestion said through thin lips.

"If you are to be Patroclus," Alexander began. "Then, I must be Achilles."

Hephaestion knew what this meant and he smiled.

Alexander put his arms around his friend and said, "Brothers in arms."

Hephaestion nodded and embraced him in return.

"I wish Aristotle had never introduced me to the Iliad," Alexander said despairingly.

"Why ever not?" Hephaestion asked him, confused.

Alexander replied, "Because of the tragedy at the end."

"Try not to worry yourself, sire," Hephaestion said, trying to cheer him up.

Alexander smiled thinly and then burrowed his head in his friend's shoulders. We should go now, a voice inside Alexander's head kept reminding him. However, he did not want to listen to it. The moment was too perfect to simply let it go there and then.


	11. The battle of the Granicus

CHAPTER 10: 334BC: THE BATTLE OF THE GRANICUS 4306

"Sire?" Parmenion began to talk slowly and tentatively.

Alexander turned around to face him. "Yes, Parmenion? What is it?" He asked him.

Parmenion took a little step forward. "Well," he continued to talk. "Are you certain about this campaign?" He then concluded.

Alexander could quite clearly see the worried expression on the old man's face. "Do not despair, my dear Parmenion," he said, trying to reassure the faithful and experienced general. "I have to complete my father's plans. If it were up to me alone, I would surely not decide to invade Persia."

Parmenion smiled, but it was only through reasonably thin lips. "I will brief the troops immediately," he said to his king respectfully.

Almost as soon as Parmenion had left, Hephaestion popped his head around the door. Alexander happened to look up towards the general direction of the door and so, he quickly caught sight of his dear friend entering. "Hephaestion?" He exclaimed, alarmed slightly by his sudden presence.

Hephaestion walked over to his king and said quietly, as if he were ashamed with himself, "I am not sure if placing me at the head of the cavalry is wise." He then bowed his head slightly and he looked down at the floor.

Alexander cocked his head to one side and said, out of a mixture of both confusion and intrigue, "Why do you say that?"

"Because…" Hephaestion began slowly and measuredly. "I believe that there are more able commanders than me," he then finished off.

"Don't think any less of yourself, Hephaestion," he said, in an attempt to encourage the man. "I have chosen you and you alone because I have faith in you. Don't ever forget that."

Hephaestion studied his friend for a brief moment and then a slight smile crept across his bronzed face. "Thank you, sire," he said, out of pure gratitude.

Alexander nodded to him and smiled, too.

"Now, men," Alexander shouted out loudly to his army as all twenty seven thousand soldiers lined up in their allocated and proper positions a few hundred meters away from the golden gates of the Macedonian capital and Alexander's place of birth, Pella. "The journey to the Granicus will indeed be a very long one. Aristotle and Parmenion have both estimated it to take at least twenty days, maybe more. However, I am sure that we can understate that figure, if we all try hard enough," he concluded. He regarded his men with much pride and wonderment and then he gave the order for the army to start to move.

The cavalry section of the army was, as was customary, situated at the front of the forces. This was done so that the horses and also horsemen would not have to slow their pace because of the infantry soldiers who would, therefore, be marching in front of them at an obviously slower pace. The hoplites and peltasts were positioned at the back of the marching squadron.

Alexander and the vast majority of his companions were placed at the very front of the army. Alexander, on horseback, headed the charge, as usual, and Parmenion, Cleitus, Hephaestion and Philotas were following him very closely behind. Also with him were Coenus, the man who had recently gotten off on the wrong foot with both Alexander and Hephaestion; Cassander, the adolescent with the great courage; Perdiccas, one of the king's most trusted advisors; Craterus, the elder general whom Hephaestion did not care much for; and finally, Callisthenes, the Greek historian who was also the nephew of Alexander's former tutor, Aristotle.

Alexander ordered his mighty Bucephalus to increase the speed at which they were traveling and his many companions did just the same. "Sire!" Cassander called out to him, in between heavy pants and breaths.

The king turned his head ever so slightly so that he could look at the young soldier properly. "Yes, Cassander?" He asked him.

"I wanted to thank you for when I…" he paused, and then continued. "When I… fell down that ditch," he finally concluded.

King Alexander chuckled softly and then replied to him, "Do not worry, Cassander. It was quite all right." He then stopped and surveyed the area periodically. Then, he turned his attention back to the young man, who was rather struggling to keep up with Bucephalus' speed. "Is your foot still causing you discomfort?" He asked him.

Cassander looked down at his right foot and answered his king, "No, not at all. It has healed nicely."

"Surely it won't take twenty days?" Hephaestion asked his king with a less than amused expression on his face.

Alexander looked at him and nodded. "Yes, I am afraid so."

"I don't mind," Callisthenes said hopefully. "I think I could benefit from the exercise," he finished, with a smile.

The march had taken only eighteen days, exceeding even Alexander's hopeful expectations. They had set up a few times, but not really all that often. Alexander knew how important it was that his men and indeed himself, should stay fit and healthy. All the same, however, he did not want to lose too much time, at least, no more than was absolutely necessary, to rest and recuperation where it was not really needed that much.

The river Granicus was a small river. It was covered in moss and its surface was covered in a sort of sickly green colour. Many insects darted around on the green body of water, as did a few birds. There was not even one single, solitary cloud afloat in the sky, which was of a rather brilliant shade of electric blue. A few birds could be heard to chatter and chirp and, as they happened to look up into the sky, the soldiers of Alexander's army would be reminded of how the perfect serenity of the area would very soon be disrupted and destroyed by the shouts and charges of battle.

"It is a most beautiful place," Perdiccas observed, in a tone of voice that was almost absent minded.

Hephaestion looked at him curiously and then said, "That it definitely is." He shielded the blazing sun from his blue eyes and smiled with happiness.

Alexander walked rode over to them and explained, "It seems a shame does it not? To spoil the tranquillity of this place."

Hephaestion and Perdiccas looked at each other and said, "It does."

Alexander ordered his army to set up camp on the bank of the river. He had decided to, with the help of Cleitus and also that of Parmenion, arrange the infantry soldiers in two solid lines. The soldiers, with their shields held firmly in one hand and their spears and swords in the other, formed a classic Macedonian phalanx battle formation. He had also put the cavalry on either side of the infantry, so as to ensure that the vitally important wings were heavily protected. The baggage animals, he ordered to remain at the back of the whole arrangement.

The well-known Macedonian general, Hegelochus, was instructed by Alexander to lead the force which were to try and gather more information about what the enemy; the Persians, were doing at present. Hegelochus had with him, around five hundred light armed troops and a small number of lancers on horseback.

When Alexander was not that far away from the River Granicus, Hegelochus and his troops returned to him. "My king," Hegelochus called out to him.

Alexander instantly spun his head around. "Yes? What is it? I trust you have some news regarding Darius?" His expression was that of a very eager and nervous man. However, he also seemed excited.

Hegelochus took a few more steps over to his king. "The Persians have drawn up for battle on the far side of the river," he elaborated.

Alexander nodded, musing over this statement. He nodded thankfully to the man and then he dismounted from Bucephalus and walked over to Hephaestion. "You look nervous," he observed.

"That is because I am, sire," Hephaestion replied softly.

Alexander sighed quietly. "You are one of my best commanders, Hephaestion. You will be fine." He took Hephaestion's hand and said, "You have my word."

"Alexander!" Parmenion called out to him, having to shout over the bustle of the almost thirty thousand-strong army. "Are we to engage the Persians now?" He asked him.

Alexander nodded gravely. "That, we are," he replied to his general.

"In my opinion," Parmenion said, sounding genuine as he did so. "It would be good in a situation such as this to set up camp on the riverbank just as we are now."

Alexander nodded, considering his speech.

Parmenion continued, "For, I do not think the Persians will dare to bivouac that near to us as we outnumber them in infantry, and by doing this we will ensure that the army can easily cross the river when dawn comes; for we will be able to do this before the enemy can even get prepared for battle."

Hephaestion, Perdiccas and Cassander walked over to their king and stood beside him.

Parmenion gave them a curt nod and then he carried on with his recommendation, "But, as things stand at the moment, I think it would be dangerous to make the attempt, because it is not possible to lead the army through the river whilst sustaining a broad line of battle."

"Gentlemen?" Alexander prompted his men.

Cassander wasn't sure of what to say, so Perdiccas realised that he would be the one to reply. Hephaestion was not looking as though he would reply either. "You see the deep stretches of the river, sire?" He asked him.

Alexander nodded slowly and gradually. "I do, yes."

Cassander decided to offer his input, "The banks are very high." He cast his attention over to the river, which lay a few hundred metres away from him. "And, steep," he added.

"The enemy cavalry drawn up in battle order will be upon us as we are come out of the river in marching formation and in no proper order, which would put us in a disadvantaged position. The first defeat would prove difficult in the present situation and damaging to us for the outcome of the whole campaign," Parmenion finally concluded.

"I do understand what it is you are saying, Parmenion," Alexander said, reasonably. "I would indeed be ashamed if we have overcome such hardships, and yet, we are outwitted by this little stream," he finished as he looked at the river flowing peacefully in the distance. "I feel that not making an immediate assault is not worthy of the glory of the Macedonians nor my own cleverness when dealing with dangers. I think the Persians would be encouraged to believe they are worthy opponents of ours because they have not suffered anything straight away to cause them fear."

Parmenion nodded, seeing the relevance and intelligence in what his king had said. However, he did still have his own reservations and doubts on this final decision.

"Parmenion?" Alexander made himself known. "You have control of the left wing," he added.

The general nodded respectfully and then he walked the few dozen metres to the left wing of the cavalry. With him, Coenus, Craterus, Ptolemy and Callisthenes also went.

Leading Bucephalus, Alexander then walked, with Hephaestion, Perdiccas and Cassander, to the right wing of his army. He saluted his men as he walked and tried to give encouragement and inspiration to those who looked as though they were nervous or fearful of what was surely to come. As he walked, he had already put into position a number of his favourite and best skilled commanders.

On the right there was Philotas, son of Parmenion, in charge of the companion cavalry, the archers and the Agrianian javelin men; next to him was Amyntus, son of Arrabaeus, who had command of the lancers, the Paeonians and the squadron of Socrates; then, there were the royal guards, under the leadership of Nicanor, another son of Parmenion; then the phalanx of Perdiccas, who was the son of Orontes. Next to him were the troops led by Coenus, son of Polemocrates, then those led by Amyntas, son of Andromenes, and finally on the right wing the phalanx led by Philip, son of Amyntas. On the left wing, the Thessalian cavalry were positioned first, under the leadership of Calas, son of Harpalus, and next to them the allied cavalry, the commanded by Philip, the son of Menelaus; then Agatho led the Thracian contingent; beyond them were infantry battalions, the phalanx of Craterus, then those of Philip and Meleager, right up to the middle of the whole battle line.

The numbers of the Persian cavalry were more or less twenty thousand, as were their foreign infantry. They had all drawn up ready for battle stretched out along the banks of the river, the infantry behind the cavalry. The land beyond the riverbank provided a commanding position.

Alexander's mere presence continued to excite his men. Therefore, that and the fact that his armour was splendidly gold, informed the Persians of when he was aiming at their left flank. Whenever this happened, they drew up the squadrons and cavalry in close formation at that particular point on the riverbank.

"This silence really is quite eerie," Hephaestion muttered to his king.

Alexander, stood by Bucephalus, beside his great friend, said to him warningly, "It shall not stay that way for long."

"Are you worried?" Hephaestion asked him expectantly.

"I am, to some extent," Alexander replied to him, rather solemnly.

"You, Alexander, are the best soldier there is," Hephaestion exclaimed.

Alexander looked at him smiled, before taking his concentration back to the front.

"Do you think they are waiting for us to make the first move?" Cassander asked no one in particular.

Someone turned around to face him. It was Perdiccas, who replied, "Possibly. Persians are cowards."

"They will not have to wait for long," Alexander said, with a smirk. Then, he leapt up onto Bucephalus and called out in his loudest voice, so that the most people could hear, to be brave. He told Amyntus, son of Arrabaeus, together with one contingent of infantry to go into the river first. Along with them, he also ordered the squadron of Socrates, under Philip's son, Ptolemy to go.

All the Macedonians and their allies were promptly silent and they waited for the shrill, low-pitched sound of the trumpet. As soon as it had sounded, Alexander himself led the right wing into the river. They chanted the battle cry to the God of Battle as they went. Alexander found that he had to continually stretch out his battle line at an angle as the current pulled on them, to ensure both that the Persians did not attack him in his flank as he came out, and that he might engage with them, as far as possible, in some sort of proper formation.

Where those with Amyntas and Socrates initially touched the bank, the Persians assaulted them with missiles from overhead; some hurled javelins from their high position on the bank into the river, while others, where the ground was more flat, went down to encounter them as far as the water.

There was a great thrusting of cavalry. Some were trying to get out of the river, while others tried to prevent them. Furthermore, there was a great shower of javelins from the Persians, while the Macedonians were fighting with their spears. But the Macedonians, as they were greatly outnumbered, began to struggle in the first assault, since they were defending themselves from the river on ground that was not firm and from a lower location. This was because the Persians held the high bank.

A further significant problem was that the most powerful part of the Persian cavalry had been drawn up at this spot, and the sons of Memnon, and Memnon himself, threw themselves into danger with them. The first wave of the Macedonians who engaged with the Persians were cut down by them, though they were valiant men, apart from those of them who were driven back towards Alexander as he approached. Alexander was already near, bringing with him the right wing of the cavalry, and he led the attack against the Persians where the whole mass of cavalry and the leaders of the Persians were positioned. Around him a ferocious battle was waged; and in the meantime, wave after wave of Macedonian battalions crossed the river, by now with much less difficulty. The sheer confusion that enthralled the Persian troops caused many horsemen to fall from their steeds and the battle became more of an infantry battle, as opposed to a cavalry one. The Macedonians endeavoured to thrust back the Persians completely from the bank and force them into the plain. Meanwhile, the Persians tried to prevent the Macedonians leaving the river and shove them back into it.

Already, the Macedonians had the upper hand at this point. This was partly because of their sheer determination and experience, but also because of the effectiveness of their chosen weapons. Alexander's troops had spears and javelins, whereas the Persians were equipped with less effective arms, such as daggers and small swords.

"Argh!" Alexander exclaimed. He looked down at his left hand and saw that his spear was now no longer there.

Aretas, a young groom in the royal entourage, fought his way over to the king. He had noticed that he was in distress. "Sire, what is it?" He shouted to him

"Do you have another spear?" Alexander called out to him.

Aretas shook his head and was stunned to see a tall Persian running towards him at full speed. Alexander rode over to Aretas and slashed the Persian across the neck.

"I only have this," Aretas said as he held up a bloody end of a spear. It now looked more like a dagger than a spear. "Demaratus may have another spear," he suggested.

Alexander nodded and held up his shield in front of his face to protect himself from a blow from another Persian soldier. He managed to shield himself every now and then and jab at people with his little dagger and slice with his sword as he slowly came to were. Where it was possible, he tried to shield Bucephalus too. Aretas had said Demaratus would most likely be. Thankfully, he soon found the Corinthian. "Demaratus!" He yelled. "Do you have another spear?"

Demaratus was silent for a short time and then he held up his very own spear. He gave it to Alexander. "My king," he said. "Take this!"

Alexander, at first, was understandably hesitant. However, he saw the look in the man's eyes and he took the spear gratefully, before galloping back to his cavalry.

Mithridates! Alexander thought to himself, feeling the anger start to well up inside of him once more. He rode out ahead of his own line and came face to face with Mithridates, the son-in-law of Darius of Persia. The Persian royal came galloping towards him and Alexander thrust out his own spear, striking Mithridates squarely in the face, bringing him down. Alexander turned around and saw, in horror that another Persian was coming at him now. It was Rhoesaces and he was charging quickly at Alexander. He drew back his sword and the metal came crashing down on the king's head.

Alexander stumbled back on his horse. His vision went blurry and Hephaestion, who was around five men away from him, gasped in terror. He tried to get the image of his close friend and his king being attacked brutally right before his eyes and he managed to continue fighting. Alexander thanked the gods that he was wearing his helmet and gathered his immense strength up so that he could, in turn, deliver a blow to Rhoesaces. He thrust his lance into the cuirass of the Persian; his aim was much better and the Persian noble came crashing down from his horse, which then trampled him promptly.

Another Persian soldier, who went by the name of Spithradates, had his sword raised high above Alexander's head. Swiftly, he let the sword come swooping down but the pain he, himself, felt next was almost unimaginable. He looked over to his left and saw a grinning Macedonian. He then looked at his arm, which had been wielding the sword and saw that it was no longer there. He saw his missing limb lying in a bloody mess a few feet away from him. He screamed and was then quickly silenced when Cleitus, the man who had cleaved off his arm, stabbed him hard in the chest.

"Cleitus, thank you!" Alexander yelled to his commander.

The man smiled and Alexander saw the blood and grime around the man's mouth, and then carried on fighting.

The Persians were now being struck in their faces by lances from all sides, both men and horses, and they were being pushed back by the cavalry. They were also suffering a great deal at the hands of light armed troops, who had mingled with the cavalry. They first began to give way at that point where Alexander was thrusting himself into danger in the front line.

But when the Persian centre had given way, then also both wings of the cavalry were broken, and there was at that point the general flight from the battlefield. Alexander led his phalanx against the Persians' many foreign mercenaries and told the cavalry to fall upon them from all sides. As a result, very soon there was a general massacre.

The scene was horrific. There was nowhere that a man could look without being greeted by the sorry sight of grown men crying and a few were killing themselves; falling on their swords and recruiting their friends to put an end to their own misery. Blood flowed freely along the grass and the once green shade of the river was now an eerily horrible scarlet red. Fallen horses lay beside their dead masters, whinnying and braying wildly. Some of the poor animals had spears buried deep in their flanks and some had their skulls smashed in by clubs of as a result of colliding with other horses or the heavy chariots of the enemy.

However, Alexander could only identify around five hundred, maybe a few more, of the men lying dead on the battlefield to be Macedonian. On the other hand, a great deal were easily distinguishable as being Persian. This, at least, gave him some degree of relief. Nevertheless, he could not help but feel a great deal of distress.

Physicians were seen to be fussing over groaning patients; watching as scared servants carried the dead and the dying on makeshift stretchers. Callisthenes was sat with one of the doctors, as was Leonnatus. Leonnatus had an arrow shaft buried deep in his shoulder.

"You've been lucky, son," the old doctor muttered as he continued to inspect the man's wound.

Leonnatus smiled through thin, disbelieving lips. He winced in pain as the doctor prodded the wound. "In what was am I lucky?" He asked him impatiently.

The doctor answered him simply, saying, "Persians are poor craftsman. Worse than they are soldiers, believe it or not. The shafts of their arrows are simple, long sticks. There are no barbs or spikes on them. They are designed to injure, not to kill."

"I hope you are right," Leonnatus murmured.

The doctor ignored the young soldier's remark and he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He motioned over some slaves, and they brought him some fresh water. Leonnatus took the hint and picked the bucket up for the elderly doctor, and held it securely.

"What are you going to do?" Leonnatus asked the doctor.

The doctor cast his gaze over to the young man. "We'll need honey," he said.

"Honey?" Leonnatus repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't question me, boy. It helps fight the infection," the doctor replied snappily.

Leonnatus, his eyebrow still raised, handed the doctor the honey.

The doctor set the honey down beside him and tried to get a hold of the strong arrow shaft. Whilst holding it with one hand, he motioned to Leonnatus to pass him the knife that had been strewn on the ground. Leonnatus obeyed and gave it to him, after cleaning it on the clean part of his tunic. The doctor took it from him swiftly and tightened his grip on the arrow shaft. He poised the knife's blade at the shaft.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Callisthenes rasped anxiously.

The doctor smiled kindly. "No, I'm certainly not. Zeus knows what Alexander will do if he found out I'd killed one of his companions," he replied, laughing hoarsely. He gripped the knife tightly and sawed off the part of the arrow shaft which was jutting out of Callisthenes' shoulder. Callisthenes winced in pain and cried out. Leonnatus put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The doctor had left a little bit of the shaft still protruding out from Callisthenes' skin, so he could reach it. He held the last bit of the shaft in between his thumb and fingers.

Leonnatus considered for a brief moment and then brought over a cup of wine and helped Callisthenes to drink it. "I thought it would help with the pain," Leonnatus said to the doctor.

"You thought well," he replied simply and then he went back to work. "Try to keep his mind off it whilst I do this," he said to Leonnatus. "This is sure to hurt."

Callisthenes groaned and bit his lip in preparation.

The doctor continued. He washed his hands in the bucket of water and, with both his hands, swiftly dug his fingers into the wound, ignoring Callisthenes' yelp. He found the end of the arrow and dragged it out, being careful to pause and search for another route if it became stuck, for he knew what would happen if something were to be severed. He passed the arrow head to Leonnatus, who moaned at the sight of even more blood on his hands. The doctor then asked for Leonnatus to pass him the honey. Leonnatus did so and the doctor packed it into the wound, along with fresh yarrow.

"Are you… just going to leave it like that? Open?" Leonnatus asked him, fretting.

"Don't be silly, boy," the doctor snapped. "Fetch me a cloth. A clean one."

Leonnatus sighed, but was spurred on by the knowledge that he was helping his friend, so he did as he was told. He returned less than a minute later with a large cloth. The doctor took it gratefully and wrapped it around and over Callisthenes' wounded shoulder, resulting in a sort of sling.

Callisthenes opened his eyes, having had them closed for most of the ordeal and thanked the doctor warmly. The doctor smiled and went over to another patient, whose injuries were much more severe. Leonnatus grinned with pride.

"It looks like I'll live to see another sunrise," Callisthenes said fortunately.

Meanwhile, Perdiccas, who had a deep gash across his cheek, walked over to Cassander. Cassander, also, was injured. This time, though, it was not his leg. He had a few small cuts on his neck and a lot of large ones on his arms. They smarted, but they were not gushing with blood continuously.

"I did not expect this, if I am honest," Cassander said quietly.

Alexander had heard him and asked, "What was it that you were expecting?"

"I thought more of our men would die. But," he paused to look at the bloody river. "They did not."

"That does not matter," Alexander said to him in an advisory tone of voice. "There are still dead. There are still men whose families I have to inform of their loss."

Cassander apologised whole-heartedly and Alexander accepted.

"Where is Hephaestion?" Alexander asked no one in particular.

Cassander shrugged, as did Perdiccas. Suddenly, they noticed that Parmenion was walking over to them. "Have you seen Hephaestion?" Alexander asked him, sounding desperate.

"Do not worry, Alexander," the elder general said to him kindly. "Hephaestion is quite well. He is over there," he said as he pointed.

Alexander nodded and then, ignoring the pain in his thigh from where he was stuck with a spear and the blurriness in his head, he ran over to his friend.

Hephaestion instantly caught sight of the blood that was flowing freely out of Alexander's leg. "You're hurt!" He observed.

Alexander, in all honesty, had failed to notice this. So, he looked down and saw that he was bleeding freely from above his knee. He studied Hephaestion and said, "So are you."

Hephaestion had his hand clutched tightly on his bare chest. The nurses had removed his cuirass and his tunic, as they were both sprayed with blood. He had been struck by a Persian lance, but it had barely penetrated his cuirass. Regardless of this, the pain was still quite measurable due to the almost definite bruising.

Alexander stood close to Hephaestion and examined his wounds, before the two of them walked back over to where Parmenion was stood.

"I am going to go to the infirmary," the general said to the king.

Alexander nodded, understandingly, and then said, "Then, I shall come to."

Parmenion nodded, being both pleased and surprised and then he and Alexander went into the makeshift hospital.

"How did you receive this?" Alexander asked a wounded Macedonian who was lying down on some hay towards the back of the temporary infirmary.

The wounded man opened his eyes and saw instantly that it was the king. "Alexander," he said out of wonder. Then, he remembered what had been asked of him. "It was Mithridates," he replied.

Alexander nodded thoughtfully and then said, trying to smile, "Your injuries are sure to heal." He recognised that this man was Aretes, the man whom he had gone to for a new spear. "Aretes," he said softly.

Aretes smiled and then winced in pain when he accidently kicked his own wounded other foot.

"I don't think you should bury the Persians," Hephaestion whispered to his king warningly.

"Why should I not?" Alexander questioned him.

"Because," Hephaestion began thoughtfully, before losing his train of thought.

"They are still men, even though they are barbarians. It would not be proper for me to treat their corpses badly or those that I have imprisoned. What is a king if he is not kind?"

His friend nodded and said, "You are right. I spoke out of term."

"I ought to clear all this blood off," Alexander said as he reached his hand up to touch his forehead. As he drew his hand away, it was covered in enemy blood. He wiped his hands on his tunic.

Hephaestion smirked at him. His face was clear from blood; the maids had cleaned most of him because of his injury.

"Why is it so hot here? By Zeus!" Cassander exclaimed loudly, waving his arms about impatiently.

Perdiccas elbowed him softly, saying, "Greece is hot. Sixteen years is more than enough to get used to the temperature of somewhere. How can you be complaining?"

Cassander ignored him.

Alexander and Hephaestion jogged over to them, as they walked beside the river Taurus. Alexander stripped off his tunic and ran over towards the river.

"Alexander! What are you doing?" Hephaestion called after him, anxious and confused.

Alexander stopped running and turned to face him, grinning. "Like Cassander said, it is hot." He said no more and jumped into the stream. Instantly, he was struck by the freezing temperature of the water. It froze him stiff, entering his skin and sticking to him. The cold liquid felt like a thousand spikes prodding his skin. It was like landing on top of a whole army's spears. He trembled violently and his eyelids suddenly felt heavy; like lead. He closed his eyes and his head went under the water.

Perdiccas was busy arguing with Cassander, but Hephaestion was, as always, alert. He noticed that Alexander was in trouble. "Cassander? Perdiccas?" He said to them anxiously. Get word to Parmenion. I'll go after Alexander."

"Why? What is…?" Perdiccas began to ask, before going silent when he noticed Alexander convulsing in the river. Perdiccas left, with Cassander, and the two of them ran to find Parmenion.

Hephaestion shook his head in dismay and then sprint up to the river. He took in a deep breath and then waded into the stream. Within little time, the water was flowing up to his shoulders. The water was soon above his head and he was forced to swim. He found Alexander and put one arm around his shoulder in a sling-like fashion. With great difficulty, he swam back to the bank of the river and was greeted by Parmenion, who was stood motionless. Hephaestion hauled Alexander onto land and sat beside his unmoving body.

Beside Parmenion were three elderly men.

"Who are they?" Hephaestion questioned the general impatiently.

Parmenion replied softly, "They are the best physicians in all of Greece. Agapios, Gaios, and Philip."

"Then, treat him!" Hephaestion shouted at the three men.

Agapios and Gaios stepped back and mumbled some noncommittal words. The one called Philip, however, stepped forward.

"Please," Hephaestion pleaded with the man. "Save him."

Philip smiled kindly. "We need to bring him inside. Take him to the tents. He is too close to the river and too far away from comfort here."

Parmenion gestured to some slaves and they carried the king into the tents. Alexander was lain down on a bed. "I need space," Philip said to Parmenion, and the general obeyed, telling everyone to leave the tent. Hephaestion, however, stayed. "You are staying?" Philip asked Hephaestion, without taking his attention from Alexander.

Hephaestion nodded guiltily. "I cannot leave him."

"And, I will not ask you. I have treated Alexander since he was a child. I know how you care about him," the physician replied.

Hephaestion smiled. "Thank you."

"Blankets. I need blankets, Hephaestion," Philip said to him. "Sheets, tunics, anything you can find which will offer warmth."

Hephaestion obeyed and returned swiftly, with many fabrics in his arms. Philip took them and carefully put them over Alexander's trembling body.

"He doesn't talk," Hephaestion said sadly. "Why?"

"The shock of the cold water, it has damaged his brain," Philip replied.

"He will die?" Hephaestion asked anxiously, preparing himself for the worst.

Philip shook his head adamantly. "Not if I can help it. I dread to think what Alexander will do to the man who almost killed him."

Hephaestion had a sort of guilty look on his face, but stayed quiet.

"Is there any water?" Philip asked Hephaestion.

"There is wine," Hephaestion replied.

Philip, however, shook his head. "No, that will not do. I need water. Water is pure."

Hephaestion hesitated, but managed to get some from the stream. It was odd to think that the thing which had endangered Alexander was about to save his life. Hephaestion went back to the tent, ignoring the gossiping troops who were trying to get into the tent and see their king. He handed the water to Philip.

"What use will cold water be? See that fire?" He pointed to the fire in the centre of the camp. "Set the water over it. Leave it for a short while, but do not let it bubble."

Once Hephaestion had done this, Philip soaked a cloth in the warm water. He dabbed Alexander's forehead with it and then told Hephaestion to hold it in place firmly.

"Why has this happened? The air was hot, was it not logical for Alexander to cool off in the stream?" Hephaestion asked him as he watched the doctor at work intently.

"It was very hot outside and the water was very cold. His brain and his blood was overwhelmed by this sudden change in temperatures. He is hot on the outside, but he is cold on the inside. We must try and warm his body up. There is a specific temperature at which our bodies can exist properly," Philip replied rationally.

Hephaestion nodded slowly.

Alexander slowly started to show signs of life again. His forehead was starting to warm up and Philip instructed Hephaestion to remove the hot cloth. Philip rested his palm against Alexander's head and then pressed two fingers to Alexander's neck. "His heart beats faster yet. He is remarkable."

"He will be all right?" Hephaestion asked him, his eyes gleaming with hope.

Philip looked over at him. "I see no reason why not. If he survives the night then it is logical to think he will be well."

Hephaestion smiled thankfully. "You will be rewarded greatly for this, Philip."

The physician acknowledged these grateful thanks before finishing with his patient. He left after half an hour and Hephaestion was alone with his sleeping king. "You'll be all right, Alexander," Hephaestion murmured as he stroked Alexander's golden hair.

The king didn't speak, but Hephaestion knew he felt something; a movement. Hephaestion stayed with him all night, trying to stay awake. Though, he eventually succumbed to Hypnos and fell asleep.

He was awoken by the sound of faint mumbling. He opened his eyes and yawned, turning to see Alexander. The king made a muffled sound and coughed violently. He began to sit up, when Hephaestion came over to him and gently pushed him back down. "The doctor says you must rest," Hephaestion said softly to him.

Alexander looked up at him, through clouded eyes. "What… What happened?" He asked, still weary and weak from the ordeal.

"You remember the river?" Hephaestion prompted him.

Alexander nodded weakly and reached up to touch his forehead. He didn't have a fever, and his temperature was quickly returning to normal.

"Well," Hephaestion replied weakly. "You jumped into it."

"Zeus, what was I thinking?" Alexander moaned.

Hephaestion shrugged unhelpfully. "I don't think you were."

Alexander smirked at him and then asked, "When can I be up? I have duties to perform."

"The doctor says when you are well," Hephaestion replied.

"I am well now," Alexander said adamantly.

Hephaestion shook his head, saying, "No, sire. You are not. Stay here and rest." He yawned.

Alexander, despite Hephaestion's warnings, sat up in the bed. He drew the cover up over his bare chest, keeping the heat in. "Have you not slept?"

Hephaestion smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't, Alexander. Not while you were at the door of Hades."

"You have been here all night?" Alexander asked him.

Hephaestion smiled thinly. "Yes," he replied in a small voice.

"I would do the same if it were you," Alexander responded. He regarded him for a while and then smiled thankfully. "You didn't need to stay with me."

"I wanted to, though," Hephaestion replied, almost cutting Alexander off.

However, Alexander shook his head. "You need to sleep. You look tired."

Hephaestion bowed his was in submission. He did need to sleep. He knew he probably looked like he was half asleep anyway. "If something was to happen to you and I wasn't here-" he broke off, growing more or less agitated.

Alexander sighed and said, "Sit with me." He patted the side of the bed.

Hephaestion sulkily obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing was going to happen. I can't have been killed by a river, Hephaestion," Alexander said to him softly.

That seemed to cheer him up a little. "That would certainly not have been good." He laughed.

Alexander grinned and was about to her out of the bed when he was forced back into it when he felt a little lightheaded. He rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Your head still hurting?" Hephaestion asked him worriedly.

Alexander nodded weakly and smiled through thin lips. "I guess I'll have to stay here for a while."

"You'll soon be up, though," Hephaestion replied helpfully. He kissed Alexander gently on the forehead.

The tent opened. It was Parmenion. "Sire?" He began firmly.

Alexander composed himself and Hephaestion guiltily walked away from the king. He stood at the bedside.

"The men have been asking how you are, Alexander," Parmenion replied. It was true.

Alexander smiled and said, "You can tell them I am well now. We should be able to continue very soon." He paused to look at Hephaestion and could see that he was yearning for him to stay out of action for a little while longer. "Though, let it be known that the doctor ordered I stay in bed for a few days longer."

Parmenion nodded and left, before wishing the king well.

Alexander groaned and got out of the bed, stumbling a little. He steadied himself and then pulled on his tunic and stretched his aching muscles. He couldn't remember ever being bedbound for that long. Hephaestion, meanwhile, had been simply stood still at the entrance to the tent. "You leaving?" Alexander asked him as he put on his sandals.

"I will if you want me to," Hephaestion said quietly.

"Why would I want you to?" Alexander replied softly.

Hephaestion shrugged and shuffled his feet a little. Alexander walked up to him and said jokingly, "I don't know what must have been going through my mind when I dove into that river."

Hephaestion smiled and said, "At least you're all right. Achilles wouldn't have thought much of Alexander meeting his end because of a river."

Alexander smiled. Hephaestion was the only one who could get away with a remark like that. He put his arms around his friend and held him tightly, stroking his black hair.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion asked him quietly, still holding him close. "Please don't do anything like that again."

"I don't think I will jump into a river anytime soon," he replied, laughing to himself.

"No, no," Hephaestion reasoned. "I mean anything that could endanger you. You mean too much to me."

"You have my word, Hephaestion," he said. "I promise you that." He kissed him on the cheek gently and then went to sit at his desk.

Hephaestion followed him.


	12. The siege of Halicarnassus

CHAPTER 11: 334BC: THE SEIGE OF HALICARNASSUS 2176

Parmenion was stood in the royal tent, nearby to the river Granicus. The dead had been cleared away and, at Alexander's insistent orders, had all been given proper and also rather splendid burials or, as some of them had wished, cremations. "Alexander," the elderly and much experienced general made his presence known professionally.

Alexander turned to face him. He had been sleeping, almost peacefully, in his tent for quite some time. The battle on the shores and sometimes, even in, the river Granicus had taken its toll on him for definite. He was tired and some of his now month-old wounds were still in need of some sort of recovery time so that they were able to heal as effectively as possible. He sat up in the bed and let a short, quiet yawn escape from his lungs. He stretched and then he stood up and walked over to his faithful general. "Parmenion?" He addressed him, whilst still trying to adjust to the coming of a new day, which was sure to be busy.

"One of the coastal provinces has been attacked by a Persian force," Parmenion said gravely. He shook his head in despair as he relayed the information.

Alexander frowned and then said, out of shock and also disbelief, "How can that be? Surely they would not risk something such as this; when they have already suffered a great defeat at our hands," he added, referring to the recent battle at the Granicus River.

Parmenion nodded in agreement and then he replied, "That is what one would expect. However, the Persians have still managed to keep their control of the seas."

Alexander shook his head in marginal frustration. "What now, then?" He asked his general, with the distinct levels of worry and nervousness, as well as profound concern.

"I do not know, O king," Parmenion said solemnly.

Alexander nodded in acceptance and the Parmenion turned to leave the royal tent.

Alexander, as soon as the moment had come when he was certain of the fact that Parmenion had left his tent, flopped down on the bed and let out a lengthy sigh.

Less than thirty minutes after these events, maybe even less than that, Hephaestion arrived at the king's tent. He entered the place, taking tentative little steps. Alexander quickly realised that someone was near. He reached under his pillow for his dagger, but picked up his copy of the Iliad, instead. He, without even looking at what it was that he was holding, brandished it to the apparent intruder.

Hephaestion quickly caught sight of the book which was in his ruler's hand and he laughed. It was a long but quiet sound and Alexander instantly recognised who that laugh belonged to.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion began to talk slowly and rather cautiously. He walked over to his king and stood beside him.

Alexander followed his own arm up and soon found the now rather tatty and worn copy of Homer's greatest word; his masterpiece, and instantly blushed. He could feel the blood rush into his cheeks and he quickly responded by removing the book from his close friend's view, by placing it gently back under the pillow again. "I…" he began slowly, stuttering as he said so. "Thought that you were an intruder…" he droned off and looked at his friend, smilingly weakly.

"I know," Hephaestion said, with a slight grin on his face.

Alexander then added to his defence quickly, "I keep a dagger and the… Iliad… with me at all times, and so, I reached for the nearest one and it happened to be the latter."

"No matter," Hephaestion said, smilingly.

Alexander sobered and then questioned his friend quickly, "What was it that you came here for?"

Hephaestion folded his arms and said to his king, "I wanted to inform you that a Persian fleet has been documented as sailing to Halicarnassus."

"Then," Alexander said promptly, and without even thinking through the whole thing properly. "We shall intercept them!"

Hephaestion shook his head gravely. "No, Alexander," he said. "We have no navy."

"Could we not hire Greek mercenaries?" Alexander asked him for some much needed advice, in the hope that his great friend would be able to offer him some useful recommendations.

"I highly doubt it," Hephaestion said, whilst shaking his head. "Regardless," he then added. "The Persians have gone to Halicarnassus to set up a new line of defence, I doubt we could have any sort of impact on them."

"Then," Alexander decided thoughtfully. "We shall go to Halicarnassus."

They had travelled a total distance of eight three leagues during their journey to Halicarnassus. The journey was much easier and, although it was not so, actually seemed quicker than those they had embarked on when they went to the Granicus and Troy. The weather was also of a slightly more temperate and calm kind. The occasional breeze or gust of cold wind was welcomed by the baggage animals, horses and soldiers alike. It refreshed them and, because they were not so hot all the time, they had more energy in themselves.

"Queen Ada says she will agree to hand over Alinda to you, sire," Philotas informed his king dutifully.

Alexander mused thoughtfully, with his chin cupped in his right hand. He then sprang up from his seat and said, "Thank you, Philotas."

The young son of Parmenion smiled put of appreciation for the king and walked over to the horse. The horses that were to be ridden by the highest ranking of the companions were tied up to rather crude, makeshift wooden posts. They were stood outside the king's tent. Usually, in normal circumstances such as these, the horses would not be kept at such a close proximity to the king, for sanitary reasons. However, Alexander had chosen to undermine and ignore this rule because he wanted Bucephalus to be as close to him as possible. And so, naturally, all of the companion cavalry's horses were grazing peacefully and quietly near to Alexander's royal tent.

"I hear that Alinda is quite a splendid place," Hephaestion said to Alexander as they walked out of his tent together and sat.

Alexander regarded his friend and nodded in agreement. "I have heard that, yes. Ruling a fortress shall be different."

Beside him, Hephaestion rolled his eyes. "There's no stopping you, is there, Alexander?"

"There will be glory, though. We will rule over the world together," Alexander replied, watching his friend.

Hephaestion smiled, almost disbelieving, and then rested his hand on the familiar place that was Alexander's knee. "I'm not sure I am happy being your queen, Alexander," Hephaestion muttered, knowing that if he spoke too loudly, the soldiers' keen ears would hear their odd conversation.

Alexander laughed loudly. "Oh, Hephaestion," he said. "I didn't say you could be my queen, did I? Who needs a king or a queen, when there can be two friends sharing control?"

Hephaestion was silent; he couldn't argue with that.

Orontobates, the Persian who Darius III of Persia had appointed as Satrap of Caria, the district which included Halicarnassus in its mighty jurisdiction, and Memnon of Rhodes entrenched themselves in Halicarnassus. They were waiting patiently as they had heard from their own spies and conspirators that Alexander, whom they saw as no more than a pesky boy who was power and fame hungry, and a portion of his now much revered army were very close by. Which, indeed, they very much were. At any rate, they were definitely too close for the Persians to be happy.

Alexander frowned heavily and harrumphed almost simultaneously. He rubbed his temples in annoyance.

"What is it, sire?" Perdiccas asked him expectantly as he tried to read the king's obviously confused expression. He knew that Alexander was certainly frustrated, but he was not sure about what.

Alexander looked over at his commander. He was quiet; not speaking. Either because he did not want to or because he was not sure of what to say in answer to Perdiccas' reasonable question.

Perdiccas then had a shadow of dismay wash over his handsome face. "Oh," he muttered in a voice that signified both annoyance and realisation. "The gates," he then finished off.

Alexander nodded, rather gravely. "Exactly," he said sullenly.

Just at that moment, Cassander rode over, bumping along on his horse, whom he had decided to name Apollo, after his favourite of the almighty gods. "Why have the spies not opened the gates?" He asked his king.

The king simply shrugged and said, "I do not know. But, they shall be dealt with, let that be known to them," he added, his facial expression suddenly growing grave. And fearsome.

Cassander, Perdiccas and Hephaestion all exchanged worried looks with one another.

"The gates will not open, regardless," Hephaestion then blurted out.

King Alexander turned to face him, causing Bucephalus to emit a slight braying noise. "I know, Hephaestion," he said, out of realisation. "But," he then said, this time sounding more firm and decided. "We need to get in."

Cassander, without giving what he was about to say even a slight moment's thought, announced suddenly, "What if we break the walls down?!"

Nearly all of the high companions regarded him with expressions of uneasiness. Some were chatting amongst themselves, whilst others had decided to listen intently on what the young commander had to say.

"I highly doubt that the Persians will have gotten this far. So, I see no reason why we cannot break through the walls of the city," Cassander then elaborated, after he had seen Alexander nod for him to continue with his opinion.

"That is probably true, Cassander," Cleitus said, agreeing with him.

"Then," Alexander finally said. "We will have to do just that." He looked at his men, who were in numbers of around fifty infantry and less than ten on horseback. They were Alexander himself, Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Cleitus, Cassander, Parmenion, Philotas, Callisthenes, Coenus and Craterus.

"It is Memnon!" Cleitus cried as he and the rest of the Macedonian forces fought to try and put even more stress on the frail walls of the city.

Alexander suddenly grew more fearless. He held up his lance, high in the air, ready to charge on Bucephalus at full speed. However, he was promptly forced to drop the long, sturdy lance when some shouted 'catapult!' He didn't have the time, nor did he have the drive, to turn around and see who had shouted that warning, but his senses seemed to remind him that it was Perdiccas who had. He instantly yelled for his men to raise their shields, and the vast majority of them did, including Alexander himself. Yet, a few of them had failed to do so. Either because they had forgotten or not heard or timed it properly. These unfortunate men were pelted with burning straw and heavy rocks from the Persian catapults.

Then, Memnon deployed his cavalry. He had an army of considerably more men than Alexander had to hand. In fact, Memnon had with him somewhere in the region of four hundred or maybe even five hundred men at his disposal. Alexander turned to face his troops and shouted to them, trying to boost their morale and courage. "Men, the Persians may have more troops. But, we exceed them with our experience and our determination!" He called out to them boldly.

Not a single man did not chant to the God of Battle. They all raised their swords nobly and swiftly in recognition of Alexander's driving speech and then Alexander gave the signal for them to advance. Every horse whinnied and reared as they came charging through Memnon's cavalry and all of the Macedonian infantry shouted the terrifying war cry of their country.

And so, that being said, Alexander's small force was able to break through the wall, just as the young Cassander had suggested. They had managed to do with much less difficulty than they had previously thought. The walls were old, more than half a century in age, as many people had roughly estimated. Therefore, they would crumble with only a moderate amount of thrusting and pressure and the positively ancient walls quickly were overcome by the immense stress which had been put on the once mighty, strong structure.

Their sudden looming presence greatly surprised the Persian forces, and Memnon himself. He had really not expected this mere boy king to be able to launch an attack as advanced and well-planned as this one was. He had underestimate both Alexander and his army a great deal. That was a huge mistake in his part.

Memnon of Persia was quickly struck with the frustrating and simply soul-ravaging realisation that the city was now lost. He knew that he had lost the battle, so he braced himself greatly and reported their imminent and certain defeat to his already rather disheartened men.

Hephaestion shielded his electric blue eyes from the sun. It was not blazing with that much intensity, as it had been at Granicus and at Chaeronea, but it was still, nonetheless, powerful and almost blindingly bright. He felt a heavy and intense gust of wind blow in his direction. It had almost actually swept his horse, Ganymede, off of his feet. The horse reared up onto its powerful hind legs and neighed. He tried to sooth the worried animal gently.

Perdiccas rode over to him. "Hephaestion!" He called out. "The grass – it is on fire!"

At first, Hephaestion highly doubted this, but then he looked over the man's shoulder, past the corpses of the many dead Persians and saw that Perdiccas was telling the truth. Hephaestion regarded Perdiccas briefly, before setting out to find Alexander.


	13. The battle of Issus

CHAPTER 10: 333BC: THE BATTLE OF ISSUS 2369

Alexander had heard, to his greatest annoyance, that Darius of Persia was massing an army in the nearby place of Babylon. He shook his head, out of frustration, and paced around outside. He went over to Bucephalus and patted the noble steed briskly.

Hephaestion, who had been feeding and watering his own horse, Ganymede, noticed his king was near to him and so, he naturally walked over to him, after making sure that his horse was not going to try and follow him. "Alexander," he began to talk, sounding rather nervous as he did so. "I assume you have heard of Darius' presence in Babylon," he finished off.

Alexander nodded gravely and said, "Indeed I have. Although I doubt Darius is actually there; the coward." He shook his head, in a state of deep disapproval.

"I hope you are right," Hephaestion chimed in.

The king smiled weakly. "I can't say that I do," he replied quietly. "I wish to be able to look the man in the face; eye to eye."

Hephaestion nodded in agreement with him. "We are less than four leagues away from the sea," he said, almost absently.

Alexander looked at him curiously and then nodded, smilingly. "Ah," he said, at the realisation. "Perhaps we should go and see for ourselves?" He suggested.

Hephaestion said nothing, but instead, he nodded eagerly at the king's suggestion.

King Alexander scanned the faces of the people in the room. He and his companions were, at present, staying in the town of Tarsus. It was a beautiful place and it was also neutral. This pleased most people because it meant that there would be no more bloodshed or tears, at least, not for now any way. Alexander, however, was surprised and also slightly alarmed to find that he was disappointed at this being the case. He had felt the wonders of battle at Granicus and he wanted more.

"My companions," Alexander said, speaking firmly and with a voice full of authority. "Darius has amassed an army of almighty proportions in the city of Babylon."

Perdiccas stood up and made himself known. "Sire, are we going to war?" He asked, trying, but failing, to keep the distress and worry out of his tone.

Alexander looked around the room and his eyes quickly fell upon Perdiccas. "If Darius were to reach the Gulf of Issus, he could use the support from the Persian fleet under Pharnabazus still operating in the sea. Thus, easing his supply and possible landing troops behind us, if we were to go at a later date."

"When will we leave?" Cleitus asked his king, sounding concerned and not really all that convinced.

The king turned to face him and promptly said, "We are to stay here. But…" he paused and let his eyes wander around the large room. Soon, he caught sight of Parmenion. "Parmenion and a few scouts will go ahead with the intention of occupying the coast around Issus."

Parmenion and his group of scouts had reached the coastal areas of Issus with in a day of being appointed to do so. There, they created an encampment and stayed there, trying not to get noticed by the amassing Persians and other people who were always sure to be nearby.

The elderly general was slightly alarmed when he saw a horse come towards him, at full gallop. He shielded the cold November sun with his right hand and he was quick to realise that the man who was riding this fast horse was one of his scouts. He was called Odysseus.

Odysseus let his mighty stallion rear up onto its powerful hind legs. Once the horse had returned to its usual four legs being on the ground, the rider leapt off of the saddle and walked the few short metres over to Parmenion. "Sir," he addressed him nobly and respectfully. "The Persian army has advanced into Syria," he then added.

"Syria?" Parmenion repeated the young scout, quite obviously feeling quite confused and also very alarmed at the news.

The scout nodded. "They are, at present, known to be in Sochi."

As soon as Parmenion had become aware of this knowledge, he had ordered a messenger to inform Alexander. Alexander had recently received the message and he felt almost as if he were overwhelmed. He had told his men that they would all be setting off to a location that was south of Issus.

Parmenion, meanwhile, held the Pass of Jonah, along with the rest of his appointed scouts. And, Alexander knew this. That, at least, managed to help put his mind at ease to some extent.

"We are safe to advance through the Pass of Jonah," Alexander, king of all of the kingdom of Macedonia and it's ever-growing empire, told his army. "Parmenion has it secured," he then added, so that his men would not be having second thoughts about the whole thing.

Hephaestion rode up to Alexander, who, like the rest of the Macedonian cavalry and companions, was sat on his horse. He stopped as soon as his and Alexander's horses were stood side by side, neighing and nickering. "How many men do the Persians have?" Hephaestion asked his greatest friend.

Alexander, after realising that someone was talking to him, then promptly turned to face him and replied to him, "I am not certain. Parmenion's messengers have said it is at least one hundred thousand."

"Cavalry?" Hephaestion asked Alexander expectantly.

I do know, Hephaestion," the king admitted shyly. "But, I do know that it is greater in number than ours," he said in a quiet tone of voice.

"We will be victorious," Hephaestion made the rather triumphant and expectant announcement to his king.

Alexander smiled weakly at his friend. "I have never understood your ability to be so very optimistic all the time, Hephaestion," he said to him, smilingly.

"Neither have I," Hephaestion answered, with a little grin on his handsome face. "I guess that is just what happens after having spent so much time with you."

They were quickly interrupted. "The Persians have Issus!" Cassander shouted to them as he rode over, at full speed. His arms were flailing wildly and the boy looked quite a sight.

Alexander swore under his breath, but Hephaestion had heard him. "We are marching now," Alexander decided bitterly.

Hephaestion and the young Cassander each exchanged apprehensive looks.

Alexander ignored these looks and spun his noble stallion around, to face his men. His cavalry was at the front of the marching formation, as it always was in situations such as these, and his infantry soldiers were further towards the back. For, it was not fair for the cavalry to have to lag behind because the infantry soldiers naturally moved about at a generally slower pace. He called out to his men, with the hope that he was inspiring every single one of them. "We march today!" He called to them proudly.

His men, all of them, showed their acceptance of their king's decision and then Alexander kicked Bucephalus as hard as was necessary in his flank and the horses and the men began to travel quickly through the dusty and gravelly terrain.

Promptly, and faster than they had expected, Alexander and his portion of the army had reached Parmenion. Alexander was leading the right and he set the Thessalian allied cavalry on the left of the phalanx with Parmenion in command.

Next to the coastal areas, Darius of Persia formed his own line of defence with his heavy cavalry, being followed by a twelve thousand-strong phalanx of Greek mercenaries. Beside the Greek phalanx, Darrius had chosen to spread his Persian infantry, the Cardaces, along the river and into the many foothills that were nearby. Once they had gotten there, the Cardaces wrapped around the other bank. Alexander instantly realised that this was threatening his right flank, causing him understandable alarm.

In the distance, Alexander could see that Darius had positioned himself in the centre of his mighty army. He was with his best infantry, the Greek mercenaries. Also with him were his royal cavalry guard. The great king, himself, was sat in his magnificent chariot. It was decorated with many ornate jewels and Alexander supposed that it was made primarily from gold.

Alexander recognised Darius' new and untypical battle formation to be reminiscent of the Hellenic formation of the battle of the river Granicus.

The terrifying Macedonian war cry was heard by every single living creature nearby.

The Persian cavalry were the first to make their move. They charged at full speed and with great animosity towards Parmenion and the allied cavalry of the Macedonian forces. In doing so, the Persians managed to cross the river to open battle. The men who made up Alexander's left wing once again found that it was them who were to be the crux of the battle.

On foot, Alexander himself led the shield-bearers, also known as the Hypaspists, then delivered a devastating assault on the Persians. The travelled across the riverbed on the Cardaces and managed to punch a hole through the once mighty Persian line.

After this had proven to be successful, Alexander became aware that he himself was at peril. He located Hephaestion and ran over to him, dodging blows from swords and thrusts form spears. He held his shield directly above his head blonde head as he went to his friend. Hephaestion offered him Ganymede to ride, but the king gratefully and politely declined.

Bucephalus, who had been walking slowly with the baggage animals and wounded men, was hidden from view from Alexander. However, once a few people had moved, he could just about make out the strong blank head of his favourite stallion. He went over to him and mounted as quickly as he had ever done before. He kicked the horse in the side and it reared up and then began to gallop towards the Companion cavalry. He positioned himself beside Hephaestion and Perdiccas and led a direct assault against Darius. He quickly realised that the Persian king had fled the scene of the battlefield.

Alexander turned his heads just in time to hear Callisthenes shout to him. "Alexander!" He cried in pure desperation.

Alexander gave the firm order for the Companion cavalry to stop, and they did.

"Alexander," Hephaestion said loudly, after catching his breath. "Why are we stopping?"

The king turned to face him and replied dutifully, "I cannot let my men die, for the sake of catching Darius."

Hephaestion nodded in agreement and he felt proud for his friend's thoughtful decision.

Alexander then led his Companion cavalry to where he had heard Callisthenes call from. With him was Cassander, who informed the king, "The left flank is in trouble and… we cannot cope!"

Alexander nodded swiftly, acknowledging his information. He and his cavalry came crashing into the back of the Greek mercenaries. As a result, the Greek mercenaries could not hold their line together and they quickly began to break up.

Meanwhile, the Persians soon became aware that something was wrong. They noticed that their leader; their king was gone. He had fled. The vast majority of the Persians rapidly realised that the battle was being lost on their part and they abandoned their positioned and fled in a full stampede.

The Hellenic cavalry launched a tireless pursuit on the fleeing Persians.

The Macedonians, while they knew they had lost many of their faithful comrades to death and injury, had with them the knowledge that they had, once again, been victorious against Darius and his Persian army.

It was the morning after the battle of Issus. The victorious Macedonians were celebrating their triumph, caring for the wounded and trying to get messages home to their wives and children.

"I am beginning to think these Persians are not even trying!" Cleitus said insolently as he took a sip of his wine.

Alexander said nothing, but frowned lightly. He drank his wine slowly and then placed the cup on the table.

Hephaestion nudged his king gently. "You are sure to go down in history," he stated bluntly.

Alexander looked at him and smiled. "We shall see," he said simply, his tone rather matter of fact.

Suddenly, a messenger came into the room, practically charging. "Sire!" He said, sounding exhausted.

King Alexander nodded, signalling to him that he could proceed.

The messenger obeyed his king. "The Hellenes have captured Darius' family," he relayed to Alexander.

Musing thoughtfully, Alexander rubbed his characteristically smooth chin. "His entire family?" He asked him.

"No," the messenger said. "His wife and two daughters."

Cleitus looked over at Perdiccas, and they both then grinned.

"Are we to visit them?" Perdiccas then asked, hopefully.

Alexander shook his head and said, "You are not, no. Hephaestion and I shall be going."

Hephaestion looked at him with a curious expression on his face.

The Persian royal family were being held close to where Alexander and Hephaestion had come from. Thus, they did not have to travel all that far.

They waited for the guards who were put in charge of watching and keeping an eye on the royals, bowed respectfully for Alexander. They did not do the same for Hephaestion. However, they were soon corrected when Alexander silently prompted then to do so.

The doors were opened swiftly and their hinges groaned. Alexander guessed that they were quite old. Before he barely even had a chance to walk more than a few paces into the room, a woman flung herself at his feet with great force. "My king!" She said loudly; desperately. "Please, spare us!" She then continued her pleas.

Hephaestion looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, feeling quite logically puzzled. He looked at Alexander, who frowned and chuckled a little to himself.

Just then, one of the men whom the two Macedonians assumed to be her advisors, took a casual step forward. He whispered sincerely in Sisygambis' ear, "The tall one is not Alexander."

The face of Darius' wife quickly became shrouded in acute and intense embarrassment. She shrunk back slightly and began to apologise uncontrollably to Hephaestion and Alexander.

Alexander walked over to her, and Hephaestion took a little step backwards. He did not want any further unnecessary attention. "You were not mistaken, mother," Alexander said to her kindly. "This man too is Alexander," he gestured to Hephaestion.

"It was very a very strange thing, what you told the queen," Hephaestion muttered to Alexander as they both left the room and went to the king's quarters.

Alexander regarded him thoughtfully for a short while. "Why?"

Hephaestion stumbled over his words. "Well, we all know… there is only one Alexander. I hardly think someone such as myself is worthy."

Alexander smiled kindly at him and took his hand. "You are Alexander; as you are Patroclus."

"Patroclus," Hephaestion whispered. "I hope my likeness with him ends before he dies," he said, his tone becoming sadder and quieter.

"What is life? I would much rather die young and with glory, than old and with nothing to my name," Alexander retorted.

"So would I, but that would mean I would not see you," Hephaestion replied sadly.

"Achilles always joins Patroclus. In life and in death," Alexander reminded him and he pulled him into an embrace.


	14. The siege of Tyre

CHAPTER 11: 332BC: THE SIEGE OF TYRE 4075

Alexander tossed and turned underneath the sheets. The blackness which so often encompassed his mind during sleep changed. He realised that he was hoping; at least, that was what he was hoping to be true. He realised that he was watching himself walking. However, he was not entirely sure where it was that he was walking. He was not able to recognise any of the things which surroundings. The dream was so real that he felt as though he could actually smell, touch and taste every last element.

He became aware that he was walking in a castle, some sort of fortress. At first, he had thought it was his home back in Pella, Macedonia. He quickly dismissed this theory because he found that he wasn't familiar with anything that was set before him. His next thought was that it was Alinda, but he doubted that being true very much.

Then, he saw a man. And, and incredibly handsome man, at that. Alexander thought that it was almost like looking into some sort of impossible, weird mirror. He examined the man. He had his hand outstretched, as if beckoning Alexander to take it and then follow him. He saw that the man in front of him had something draped over his shoulders. After another, lengthier look, Alexander noticed that it was a lion skin. Quickly, though, image was gone and he began to try and frantically search for the lost, ancient figure.

Alexander gripped the edges of the sheets with curled fingers, firmly. He writhed about and became somehow subconsciously aware of the fact that his forehead was getting wet. This startled him to such an extent that he had no choice other than to wake up. He rubbed his forehead and, just as he had been expecting, it was sweaty and hot. Not only was his forehead sweaty, his entire body was sticky with perspiration. He looked down at his arms and legs and saw that they both gleamed, as did his chest and neck.

He sighed, almost if he were exhausted and then he flopped back down onto the bed. He did not sleep. He just simply lay there, staring into the darkness that surrounded him.

When morning came, Alexander leapt out of bed and, with Hephaestion and Perdiccas' help, sought out the assistance of Aristander.

"Who did you see?" Hephaestion asked Alexander impatiently as they went to find Perdiccas.

"I don't know. I was hoping Aristander could tell me," Alexander replied to him simply.

Hephaestion was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Describe him. What did he look like?"

"He was tall, and had a spear in one hand. There was a lion skin draped over one of his shoulders. Most of all though, he was handsome. Incredibly handsome," Alexander replied, after formulating the image in his head.

Hephaaestion grinned. "Must have been me, then."

Alexander rolled his eyes and punched him playfully. He continued, adding, "He had something about him which made him look wounded. Mentally."

"Ah, that probably wasn't me, then. Maybe it was you," Hephaestion said carefully.

"I did think that, but why would I have a lion skin?" He asked.

Hephaestion shrugged and then he realised who it had to be. "You are going to feel deeply annoyed but I think that was Heracles."

"I would've preferred it to have been Achilles. Still, Heracles is great. Strong, handsome, courageous… and tragic. Everything a hero is," he said.

Aristander was a seer and, whilst most of his men did not really agree with this sort of profession, Alexander was simply fascinated by it. And so, at their king's order, Hephaestion and Perdiccas went with Alexander to speak to the seer.

Aristander was a middle-aged man. However, he gave the appearance that he was much older. He reminded Alexander of Aristotle, to some extent.

"I see," the seer said as he nodded his head slowly. He waited for an image to form in his mind. He sat there in silence for a few moments. He scanned the blank, yet very expectant faces of the three men who were presently stood before him. He knew that the blonde, stocky man with the striking eyes was Alexander. Though, the taller man on his left, with hazel eyes and dark brown hair; he did not know the name of. Just as he did not know that Hephaestion was the one with blue eyes and the most handsome out of the three men.

Aristander lifted his head up marginally and said to Alexander, essentially ignoring Perdiccas and Hephaestion, "This is a very fortunate omen indeed, my king."

Alexander could not stop himself from grinning. Hephaestion and Perdiccas exchanged rather annoyed looks with one another.

"The city of Tyre," Aristander continued with his prophecies.

Alexander nodded gleefully, signalling for the seer to carry on.

Aristander, therefore, did so. "It will be captured, at your hand," he said carefully.

The king, trying to take this simply magnificent revelation in, did not speak. Instead, he just absently nodded his head.

"However, my king," the seer added in a warning tone of voice. "It will not be a simply task. Just as with the twelve labours of Heracles, there will be hardships," he said.

Alexander had managed to convince his men to make an attack on Tyre with more than relative ease. He was not sure why they had been so eager, but he just put it down to the fact that they trusted Aristander and his divinations.

The city of Tyre was an island, which was defended on every single side with high walls. The Persians were, as always, the masters of the sea and the Tyrians had a large fleet at their disposal that was ready for immediate deployment.

It was January of 332 and Alexander and his men had posted themselves nearby to the city of Tyre. However, they quickly became aware of the fact that they could go no further. The sea separated them from Tyre. Alexander cursed and asked Hephaestion for his advice.

"There is no way that I see could benefit us, Alexander," his closest friend gave him the empty and non-existent suggestion

Alexander sighed and then he said to his friend, "A mole. That is what we shall build; a mole."

"A mole?" Hephaestion repeated, feeling quite confused.

Alexander looked at him and nodded, obviously feeling quite pleased with himself for being the one to come up with that suggestion.

They had decided to start to construct the revolutionary mole on a crossing that was basically covered in pools of water which had shallow places and frequent patches of mud on the part closer to the mainland. However, this crossing, in particular, was likely to be the quickest way of getting across. It was nearest to the city of Tyre.

"This is too deep, Alexander," Hephaestion pointed out as he gestured to the deepest part of the crossing.

His king walked over a little to the part that Hephaestion was referring to and noticed that it was at least eighteen metres in depth, and possibly more than that.

Alexander picked up a large, incredibly heavy stone and slowly placed it directly on the crossing. "Then," he said decidedly. "We will make it easier to cross." He turned to instruct his men and they subsequently began to do the same thing as he was. Hephaestion frowned to start off with but then he quickly began to join in with them.

"We could use wood, as well," Hephaestion suggested as he added to the rapidly growing mole.

With a make-shift hammer, Cassander was just about managing to fix some stakes into the mud. He had struck his own hand by accident a few times, causing him to yelp out in pain and curse under his breath. The mud more or less bound together the increasing amount of stones, which helped to ensure that they stayed in place more easily.

Alexander was not standing idly by as he watched his men do all the work, while he relaxed in the background, occasionally ordering his men about the place. Instead, he was doing just the same as them. When he saw that someone was having trouble with carrying a particularly large stone, he rushed over and helped them. This had happened to Hephaestion on a numerous amount of occasions.

"I think I may presume that I am stronger than I really am," Hephaestion said to his king.

Alexander laughed and then picked up the opposite end of the large stone and helped Hephaestion to carry it over to the assigned place for it.

However, the further away from the mainland they got, the more and more difficult it was for them to continue to build the mole. Alexander, a few times, had noticed a few stragglers, so he went up to them and tried to boost their important morals; inspiring them with his words, for the king's praise was more than enough for most people, or by offering substantial yet appropriate gifts to those whom he felt were working exceptionally hard.

"Missile!" Someone shouted and, instantly, the vast majority of the Macedonian soldiers lifted up their ornate shields so that they were protecting their heads and held the pose for a while. Thus, due to all of the missiles and the increasing amount of threats being posed from above, the Macedonians would have to hold their shields up whilst they were working on the innovative mole.

Some of the Tyrians, though, were even in possession of such courage that they sailed in their boats over to Alexander's mole. These Tyrians would come bearing swords and shields, but the Macedonians found that they could defeats most of them with it proving to be quite easy.

The Macedonians erected two towers on top of the mole which now stretched out some distance into the sea, and put engines on the towers. They used some animal hides and skins as coverings for the towers so as to protect them from the plethora of burning missiles being hurled from the wall and also to offer some defence against arrows for the Macedonians who were working tirelessly underneath. In addition, this also meant that any Tyrians who sailed up and endeavoured to harm those who were building the mole would be forced to retreat when attacked from the towers.

Meanwhile, inside the city walls of Tyre, the senate had decided to fill a ship, which would usually be used for transporting horses and other animals, with logs that were dry. This would make it very easy to burn. They hired their finest craftsmen to set up two staves in the bow, and to then construct the sides as high as they could so that it could carry as much woodchip and torches as were possible. Likewise, they put sulphur and other highly flammable things, so as to encourage the fire to grow even more.

In cauldrons, they put in the flammable substances and attached these to a double yardarm, which was fitted on both of the masts.

When wind was blowing in the general direction of the Macedonian mole, the Tyrians attached the boat to a few of their triremes. The gusts of wind made the triremes move, thus, leaving the huge other ship to follow in their collective wake.

As the wind blew harder and harder, the boats slowly began to approach the mole. And, when they finally did, the Tyrians executed their plan and set the contents on fire.

Alexander looked around in horror. He saw the towers of his begin to crumble and ultimately fall down. He saw some of his terrified men fall from the towers, yelling and a tear formed in his eye. He held it back and held a straight face.

The Tyrians that were in the few triremes had already drawn their bows and were firing at the now overwhelmed Macedonians. All of the war engines were subsequently set on fire and men were running around in sheer terror; some of whom had fire dancing about on their backs. Some jumped into the deep sea and others just ran around frantically.

In amongst all of the intense confusion, Alexander took some infantry, as well, as the Agrianians to Sidon. At Sidon, Alexander had collected all of the ships which he had. The siege on Tyre seemed virtually impossible while the sea was under the control of the Tyrians.

In the meantime, the king of Aradus and Enylus of Byblus became aware that Alexander held their cities, so they quickly came over to Alexander and offered him their aid. As a result, the young Macedonian king now had around eighty Phoenician ships in his fleet.

From Rhodes, nine triremes and the state guard ship arrived, as well as three from Mallus and Solis, together with ten from Lycias and a fifty-oar ship from Macedonia, which was under the command of Proteas, son of Andronixus. Soon afterwards, the kings of Cyrprus arrived at Sidon with one hundred and twenty ships, as they had heard of the defeats of Darius at Issus and Granicus, were concerned that Alexander already had control of the whole of Phoenicia.

Alexander walked around near his fleet. He ordered as many infantry as he deemed to be sufficient enough for the task on the decks. "We need to be prepared if the circumstances in which this develops into a land battle," he said to Hephaestion, who was walking with him, steadily. Alexander, along with Hephaestion, then set out from Sidon and sailed to Tyre, with his fleet in complete battle formation. The king himself, as always, was on the right wing, which was the seaward side. Hephaestion was positioned by his side. Together with him and Alexander were the kings of Cyprus and all the Phoenicians, apart from Pnytagoras. Pnytagoras was aiding Craterus with his commander of the left wing of the entire battle line.

Previously, the Tyrians had accepted, albeit rather reluctantly, to accept a naval battle if the time arose when Alexander sailed against them. But they were all quickly reminded of why they had been so reluctant to accept when they had caught sight of the advancing Cyprian and Phoenician ships.

"Should we attack?" Perdiccas asked Alexander tentatively.

Alexander shook his head and said, not taking his eye off of Tyre for one moment, "Not yet. We may still draw the Tyrians out."

Perdiccas nodded and they waited for another fifteen minutes and still, nothing had happened. No one had made their move. And so, Alexander decided to take action. He wanted to take action. He gave the definitive order and they sailed on.

When the Tyrians became aware of the great many ships that were rapidly advancing towards them, they refused the option of a sea battle. So, at the mouths of the harbour of the city, they placed as many of their triremes as they physically could, in the hope that the enemy fleet did not use any of their many important harbours.

When the Tyrians did not come out to face him, Alexander sailed against the city. He was about to sail his ship through to the harbour, but Cassander reminded him of the narrowness of the passage and that decision was promptly abandoned.

The Phoenicians attacked the three triremes moored furthest out, and sank them, after striking them head-on; those on the ships easily swam away to the friendly shore.

The ships with Alexander then anchored close the newly constructed mole along the shore.

On the next day Alexander ordered the Cyprians with their ships under the command of the admiral Andromachus to blockade the city at the harbour which faced in the direction of Sidon, while the Phoenicians were to do the same at the harbour on the further side of the mole facing towards Egypt, which was the location of Alexander's tent.

Countless missiles rained on them from above as they fitted together the many new war engines. Some of the engines were placed on the mole and others were on the horse transports, as well as on triremes.

Perdiccas called out to Hephaestion, "The stones! They won't enable the boats to cross!" He said.

Hephaestion regarded him with a less than sincere look and then he realised what he meant. "We will have to drag them out of the sea," he said. He went to find Alexander, who agreed with him and ordered this to be done immediately.

It was done, but with a great level of difficulty, because they had to drag the stones from the ships and not from land.

The Tyrians, also, had put protection on some of their ships and had then attacked the anchors of Alexander's triremes. They cut the anchoring ropes, making it impossible for Alexander's ships to anchor by the city of Tyre. To counterbalance this act, Alexander protected thirty of his oared vessels in the very same manner and positioned them in front of the anchors, as to repel the attack of the Tyrian ships. Underwater divers, sent by the Tyrians, had begun to cut the anchor cables. The Macedonians, however, quickly became aware of this and started to use chains, which the divers could not cut through.

The Macedonians also fitted rope around the rocks which had come from the mole. Then, by lifting the heavy stones with the engines, they let them drop into deep eater, which would not pose a threat to themselves or their ships.

Where they managed to make the partition clear of obstacles, the ships effortlessly got in close.

The Tyrians were coming quite close to withdrawing, for they could see that they were in great difficulties in almost every way possible. Therefore, hoping to make the situation better for themselves, the decided to launch an attack on the ships from Cyprus, which were blockading the harbour which faced Sidon. So that they could be sure no one could see them manning their triremes the Tyrians covered the mouth of the harbour with great white sails.

Now, Alexander had left the fleet on the other side of the city to go to his tent. At this moment, the Tyrians manned six smaller ships and seven triremes with their finest crews. To start off with, the started to move out of discreetly, one after the other, with no one to call the stroke. However, when they were in the sight of the Cyprians, they broke out into full speed, rowing with an even stroke and shouting words of encouragement to one another.

When Alexander had reached his tent, however, he did not stay long. He, instead, returned to where the ships were.

On their first attack, the Tyrians had managed to sink the ship of King Pnytagoras, as well as those that were captained by Androcles from Amathus and Pasicrates of Curium. Where they were not able to sink them, they drove others to the shore and smashed them.

When Alexander noticed that the Tyrian triremes had sailed out, he ordered the majority of the ships with him, as soon as the crews were in place, to hold their position at the mouth of the harbours, so they could stop other Tyrian ships leaving. He took the quinqueremes he had and five triremes and began to sail around the city to face the Tyrians who had previously sailed out.

The Tyrians who were on the wall caught sight of the advancing Alexander and his many ships and tried to warn their men. However, they could not be heard because of the ferocious noise of the struggle which was raging around them.

The men on the ships noticed Alexander's ships too slowly and began to make for the harbour. A few managed to get to the harbour, but Alexander's ships rammed the majority of them. Much to Alexander's annoyance, they could not capture or attack the men on these ships, because most of them simply dived into the blue waters and swam for the harbour.

The Macedonians knew that the main walls were too strong for any of their attacks to make any sort of mentionable impact, so they brought some of the ships which had engines up to that part of the wall which faced towards Sidon. When even that made little difference, Alexander sent them round to the south and the part of the wall that faced Egypt. He wanted to put every part pf the Tyrian's mighty fortifications to the test.

It was now that the wall was first of all battered to a considerable extent and then partly destroyed by a breach. Now, Alexander made a limited attack, just throwing footways where the wall had been damaged. Regardless of their drive and power, the Tyrians easily drove back the Macedonians.

Calm weather had finally come to Tyre and the surrounding seas two days later. Alexander went to his surviving men and tried to encourage them. Most of them were very tired. He noticed Craterus, who looked a little worse for wear and so, he decided to see what was wrong with him. Then, he went over to Cassander. The young boy looked almost different to Alexander. He seemed to somehow be older and more mature. He no longer had the body of an adolescent, he now looked more like a man. It contradicted the fact that he was the youngest soldier in Alexander's army.

After more and more continuous attacks the wall began to crumble slightly and Alexander then led in two ships carrying gangways which he planned to place where the wall had been breached. The company of guards took over one of the ships, under the expertise of Admetus, whereas the squadron of Coenus took over the other. Alexander intended to cross the wall with his guards wherever it was possible. He commanded some of his triremes to sail around the entrances to both harbours, in case they could force an entry into them when the Tyrians were preoccupied by his assault on the wall. The other triremes, which either had missiles for hurling from the engines or archers on the decks, were ordered to sail round the wall in a circle. Then to land where possible or stay within firing range as long as landing proved impossible, so the people of Tyre, under assault from all sides, would really have no hope.

The ships with Alexander had approached the city and the gangways were thrown onto the wall from them. The royal guards went along valiantly on to the wall. Travelling with Admentus, Alexander was energetic on his part, but was also hesitant because he wanted to see how the rest of his men were coping. The wall was first captured where Alexander had stationed himself and the Tyrians were easily thrust back from the wall. Admentus was the first onto the wall, and he was ordering his men to follow him up. However, the brave commander suddenly became aware of a terrible pain in his chest. He looked down and cried out in agony as he noticed the spear which was jaggedly protruding from his torso. It had hit him just in between the ribs. Alexander rushed over to him once he was aware that something was wrong. However, as soon as he had reached him, the man was dead. Alexander's hands clenched into tight fists and he stood up, feeling the anger start to well up inside of him. He then seized the wall with his companions. He quickly gained control of some of the towers and the structures which link them and he fought his way through their fortifications as a descent into Tyre seemed quicker this way.

As for the Phoenicians, who were moored near the harbour which faced Egypt, they managed to force their way in and after destroying the booms, set about wrecking the ships in the harbour. They rammed some of them at sea and forced other, less compliant ones, to the shore.

At the other harbour which faced towards Sidon there was not even a barrier across the entrance, and the Cyprians sailed in and captured the city on this side without great hardship.

Many of the Tyrians saw their wall had been taken over and the deserted it. They gathered together at the shrine of Agenor, and there they turned to fight the Macedonians. With his royal guards, Alexander fell upon them. He slaughtered those who were there and ten went to pursue those who had fled.

Alexander was so furious with that the Tyrians had put up such a defiant stand, that he slaughtered every Tyrian that he saw. He was even more infuriated when Hephaestion informed him that there were the bodies of four hundred Macedonians.

"Surely you won't kill the children?" Perdiccas asked his king, as the two of them stared out at the carnage which lay before them, trying to be as respectful as possible.

Alexander shook his head as sincerely as Perdiccas had ever seen him do. "Only the men; those who would not give in; those who killed our comrades," he replied defiantly. As he said this, he thought of how many men he had seen die in this months-long siege on Tyre. He thought of Admentus and how he had not been there with him when he passed. Instantly, his mind was directed to Hephaestion and he felt compelled to look at his close friend, just be sure that he was well.


	15. Pharoah Alexander at Gaza

CHAPTER 14: 332BC: PHAROAH ALEXANDER AT GAZA 2320

"Alexander?" Hephaestion said his name slowly as he walked on over to the king. He stood beside him and regarded him with a curious look on his face.

The king put his quill down, deciding that the letter to his mother could probably wait another day or two. "What is it, Hephaestion?" He asked him, trying hard to keep the elements of tiredness and boredom from showing in his tone of voice.

Hephaestion smiled weakly and then said, "Shouldn't you get some rest?"

Alexander shook his head defiantly. He turned away from his close friend and picked up the quill. He was about to start to start writing again, when he felt Hephaestion put a comforting hand on his arm. He followed the tanned arm up and saw Hephaestion was looking at him, frowning. "The attack on Tyre has taken its toll on you, Alexander," he said to him in a warning tone of voice.

The king tried very hard to ignore him, but he knew deep down that he could not.

Hephaestion took the quill from his hand and said, holding it in his own hand, "The men can see it. You look tired. You have done too much; be careful not to over exert yourself."

Again, Alexander shook his head. "Leave me, Hephaestion," he said, trying not to sound too cold as he did so.

"No, Alexander," his friend, nonetheless, replied defiantly.

King Alexander stood up and took his friend's hand. "Please, Hephaestion. I need to think," he said, calming his tone slightly.

When the king walked into the senate tent, everyone was expecting him to announce that they could all go home. That they would now be able to go and see their much-loved and much-missed families; their wives, their children. Alexander strode in, trying hard not to look at any of the faces of his obviously quite tired men. He stood authoritatively at the head of the main assembly. "Men, we are to march on Gaza," he proclaimed to them.

Perdiccas sighed and looked over at Hephaestion, who looked just as equally annoyed and concerned as he himself was. Cassander whispered to Perdiccas, "We need to rest. What is he doing?"

Perdiccas looked at the boy solemnly and then he shook his head. He signalled for the boy to be quiet, so as to be certain that Alexander would not notice the disruption, should the time come when he looks their way.

"Aristander," the king began slowly, making sure that everyone could hear him properly.

Before Alexander could continue, Philotas muttered, to himself, "For Zeus' sake." He instantly shrunk back, trying to hide a little behind his father, when he realised that Alexander had heard him.

Alexander gave him a rather frustrated and startling look and then he, surprisingly, but fortunately for Philotas, said no more of it. "Aristander," he repeated himself. "Has told me that this shall prove easier than our attack on Tyre."

Hephaestion nodded, still feeling very unsure with Alexander's choices. Nevertheless, he was his friend, and his best friend at that, so he could not disagree with him. Instead, he went over to Alexander and congratulated him with his apparently fantastic thinking. Towards the back of the audience of men, Perdiccas, Callisthenes and Cassander frowned gravelly.

Alexander and his men marched on the Egyptian city of Gaza. Upon arriving, Alexander ordered them to set up camp as near to the southern side as possible. Here, it was deemed to be the weakest point on the structure.

Alexander called out to his men, "We will construct mounds near these weak points." He turned to face Perdiccas. "Perdiccas," he began firmly. "You and Cassander are to oversee the construction toward the left side. I will take the right."

Cassander and Perdiccas nodded slowly in response to their king's order and then they began to get to work on building the required mounds.

"Hephaestion," Alexander said.

Hephaestion did not even require for him to finish his sentence. "I will help," he said, interrupting Alexander.

The king nodded gratefully.

"Parmenion had said that this would be impossible," Hephaestion said as they began to work on building the mounds, along with the rest of the men.

Alexander cocked his head and asked him, "What do you mean?"

Hephaestion then clarified for him, "He said that the mounds would be too difficult to complete because of Gaza's fortifications."

Alexander grinned. "Then, that is his opinion." *

A few days after all of the mounds had been successfully completed, Alexander, from information on Cassander's behalf, became aware that the people of Gaza had made a sortie, to be directed against the newly constructed mounds.

Alexander did not stop to think, not wanting to waste any more time. So, he and Hephaestion led the shield bearing guards into conducting a counterattack. Gazan soldiers came at them from all sides. Hephaestion saw a sword come sweeping towards him. Just in time, though, he managed to lift up his ornate, heavy shield and he was able to deflect the blow. Fighting a few metres away, another shield bearer, who went by the name of Callisthenes, was being confronted by three Gazans, simultaneously. He had managed to knock out one of them, with a solidly directed punch to the face, but the others were still very much awake and moving. He could not see the one behind him, as he was far to concentrated on the one in front of him.

Hephaestion noticed and ran over to the other Gazan. He struck him in the chest with his dagger and the man came crashing to the floor. He fell onto the ground and then came down on his face. His eyes rolled back up into their sockets. Callisthenes smiled thinly at the king's closest friend and then returned the favour by shielding Hephaestion from a rapidly incoming blow from the other Gazan. The enemy's sword came crashing down and buried itself deep into Callisthenes' shield. It was stuck. The Gazan pulled on his sword desperately, trying to free his essential weapon, but he could not. He let go and started to flee, but before he could get very far, Perdiccas appeared from nowhere and thrust his spear into his chest. He fell to his knees and his eyes went black.

Meanwhile, Alexander found himself in just as much trouble as Callisthenes had been in not that long ago. However, he was being confronted by four Gazans. One of them was the same height as the Macedonian king was, but, as Alexander was not a particularly tall man, the three other Gazans were easily taller than him by about two heads or possibly more. He had managed to subdue the smaller one with little difficulty, but now the three larger men were obviously getting more enraged and they charged full on towards Alexander. He raised up his shield and closed his eyes tightly. Once he thought that the danger had at least passed to some extent, he slowly rose to his feet, only to be struck in the shoulder by one of the larger Gazan soldiers, who had been behind him.

Alexander fell to his knees and the world seemed to go blurry around him. The shouts and yells of men, both Gazan and Macedonian, began to fade until he could no longer hear them. All he could hear was a loud, high-pitched buzzing sound in his ears. He fell to the ground and landed flat on his face. The Gazans smirked and launched their attack on the fallen king. They raised their swords and were about to swipe his head clean off when one of them fell beside the unconscious Macedonian. He looked down to see a spear protruding from out of his chest. The other two Gazans looked around in horror as they saw Hephaestion and Perdiccas charging at them. They raised their swords and struck the two shocked Gazan soldiers, who fell instantly.

Perdiccas looked at his and Hephaestion's grim handiwork. "Go to Alexander," he called to him.

Hephaestion was reluctant at first; he did not want to leave Perdiccas, but when he noticed that Cassander was running over to Perdiccas, he left. He scanned the area and found Alexander, lying helpless in the sand. He ran over to him. "Alexander!" He said in desperation.

The fallen king stirred quietly. He coughed and Hephaestion quickly caught sight of the blood which was leisurely seeping out of his shoulder wound. He tried to staunch the blood with his hand, but the blood was flowing too fast for it to have much of an effect. He rolled Alexander over onto his back, whilst holding up his shield above him, so as to deflect any further enemy blows. Quite a few Gazans seemed to fancy their chances and were quite enticed with the opportunity that they could be the one to kill King Alexander, but Hephaestion, being so worried for his friend, always fended them off. He looked into Alexander's eyes, which kept fluttering and rolling back up into his head. He held his head and kept trying to stop the blood from flowing. "What happened?" Hephaestion asked him.

Alexander groaned loudly. "The… the… Gazans…" he droned off.

"Who, Alexander? Who did this?" He demanded. "They shall pay!"

Weakly, Alexander responded, "Him." He turned his head painfully and looked over at the dead enemy who was lying next to him, his body all crumpled up.

Hephaestion's hands clenched into tight fists; he wanted to avenge his friend's injury. He managed to calm himself down and he stroked Alexander's blonde hair. He ripped off a section of his own tunic and wrapped it around the king's wounded shoulder and the blood finally ceased flowing. "We have to get you out," he warned him.

Alexander shook his head and the promptly winced at the pain that that action brought him. "No, I... I need to… fight," he said defiantly.

"You don't," Hephaestion said softly. He looked at Alexander's head, which had blood starting to flow out of a gash on his left temple, which he had sustained when he had fallen. He reached up to touch the wound, but Alexander stopped him, saying, "No, Hephaestion…" he grew quiet. "Help me up," he finished.

Hephaestion begrudgingly helped his king get to his feet. Alexander took his sword out from its sheath. "Thank you," he said to his friend.

"You should not be fighting," Hephaestion warned him.

Alexander, however, ignored him. "It is not right for me to let my men fight on, whilst I stay here and rest," he replied to him. So, saying that, he went off, and Hephaestion followed him. Alexander had to try very hard to ignore the excruciating pain in his shoulder. He stumbled a few times, but Hephaestion was there to guard him, regardless of whether Alexander wanted him there or not.

"Sire," a young Macedonian infantryman called out to him. "The mound is complete!"

Alexander nodded and asked him, trying to ignore his smarting shoulder, "Has the siege equipment arrived from Tyre?"

The man shook his head. "I will check," he said and then ran off.

Around an hour later, the young man was trying to find his king and Hephaestion. The confusion was so great that he had spent more than half an hour searching in the wrong place. He scanned the surrounding area and quickly caught sight of Alexander's unmistakeable, golden armour. He sprinted over in that direction, and fended off enemy attacks as he ran. He stopped by the king and said, "The siege equipment is here."

Alexander thanked him and then the young soldier went off to continue fighting. Most of the Gazans had either fled, been severely injured, or were actually dead by this point in time.

"We'll go to the siege engines," Alexander told Hephaestion as they made their way past the struggling men and the quickly piling up dead bodies.

His friend nodded and they ran over to the walls of the city of Gaza. Alexander ordered the siege engine workers to start to break down the heavily defended walls. The walls were not nearly as strongly fortified as that of Tyre and the siege engines quickly broke down the walls after only a few tries. There was now a substantial weak point in the walls of the city and Alexander led his men through it. However, they were prevented when the Gazans began to hail rocks and spears at them from above. This happened a further two times. On the fourth attempt, the Gazans seemed to tire and Alexander could lead his men in successfully.

The city inside was dry and boring. All of the women and children had fled, much like what had happened at the siege of Tyre. However, all of the men, young and old, had remained behind, in the hope that they would be able to defend their preciously important city. Leading a group of infantry, Alexander stormed through the city. Every Gazan soldier who came near was slain by the superior weaponry of the Macedonian forces.

However, the Gazans did not seem to give up. The commander of the fortress, a man who went by the name of Batis, was a ruthless and bitter man. He was not native to Egypt; he was Persian. It was this knowledge which fuelled Alexander's rage even more.

"He will not surrender," Hephaestion advised his king.

Alexander shook his head and said, "He will."

Hephaestion said quietly. "He will send wave after wave of men."

"This man has no pride; no courage," Alexander said bitterly. "He is in his fortress, hiding, whilst his men fight us. He is a coward."

"Then, surely he is not worth fighting?" Hephaestion asked him.

"Then, he has not earned my admiration," Alexander said, essentially rebuking Hephaestion's observation.

Regardless of commander Batis' refusal to hand over Gaza to Alexander, the city was captured anyway.


	16. Oracle at Siwa

CHAPTER 15: 331BC: ORACLE AT SIWA 1470

It had been a few months since their undertaking of the siege on Gaza and Alexander was finally beginning to show some signs of improvement regarding his wounded shoulder.

Alexander and Hephaestion were in the royal tent. Alexander had been complaining lately about the wound to his shoulder that he had sustained during their attack on Gaza. Alexander was sat in his chair, trying to deal with matters of state and Hephaestion was stood behind him, reading over his shoulder and was massaging his wounded arm.

"I am glad that you are finally taking rest," Hephaestion said to his king.

Alexander turned around and said, "I am, but not for long."

Hephaestion interjected, saying, "But, your shoulder… it is still not yet healed."

"It feels better all ready," Alexander replied, grinning.

Hephaestion was not convinced.

"Regardless of how I am feeling," Alexander then added. "I cannot simply sit here. There is work to be done."

Knowing that there was probably nothing that he could say which would make Alexander change his mind, Hephaestion sighed and was quiet.

"Aristander has said that there is a rather splendid oracle nearby," Alexander said.

"An oracle?" Hephaestion echoed, confused and slightly alarmed at the sound of that.

Alexander nodded happily. "Yes, an oracle," he clarified for his confused friend.

"You are fortunate that the weapon did not piece the bone," Hephaestion said as he rubbed Alexander's shoulder gently.

The king nodded and then said, whilst smiling at his friend thinly, "It is still is uncomfortable, though."

"We should get going," Alexander said, after yawning and rubbing his still quite painful shoulder.

Perdiccas, who was with him at the moment, nodded slowly; he was still not certain. "Should I alert the troops?" He asked his king respectfully.

Alexander nodded to him and Perdiccas went out of the royal tent to carry out the order. Outside of the royal tent, Cassander, Callisthenes and Philotas were standing. When they had caught sight of Perdiccas leaving the tent, they approached him. "Perdiccas?" Cassander began slowly, hoping that they could at last go home.

"We are to leave for Siwa immediately," Perdiccas answered him, without even waiting for him to ask the actual question itself first.

The men sighed and Perdiccas announced his knowledge to the rest of the army.

Almost as soon as they had set out from their encampment, the sky started to grow dull and grey and the once blue sky was gone; replaced with an abundance of rainclouds. "It looks like the Heavens are opening," Cassander pointed out as he and the rest of the Companion cavalry, with Alexander at the head, rode steadily across the desert ground.

Perdiccas smiled at him. "It does indeed," he said glumly.

It was then that the Heavens did in fact open and the wind rumbled and howled. The clouds seemed to shake and they finally were forced to let go of their heavy, wet loads. The entire marching procession was practically drenched by the intense rainfall. The infantry soldiers, were in some ways, the most fortunate of the troops. They had helmets, whereas the cavalry did not.

"Sire," Callisthenes began as he waited for his own horse to catch up with Bucephalus. "Are you not going to wear your helmet?" He asked him.

Alexander looked at him and replied nobly, "If no one else has one, then why should I wear mine?"

Hephaestion kicked his horse in its flank and he was now travelling at the same speed as his king was. "Where is this oracle?" He asked, trying hard to keep the rain from out of his eyes.

"Aristander said it was not too far," Alexander replied, trying to be as helpful as he could with his answer. "I doubt it is more than five leagues away," he then added, after calculating the distance in his head.

Hephaestion nodded warily. "I just hope this rain stops soon," he stated bluntly.

"Even the Heavens must tire, Hephaestion," Alexander replied.

The whole of the desert looked and sounded exactly the same. There was pale orange sand, which was now more of a muddy brown colour because of all of the rainfall; a few plants, representing themselves as cacti and prickly pears; and the sounds of ravenous birds of prey squawking and screeching at such unbelievable volumes as they circled the skies dangerously, in the hope of coming across a meal. The wind was deafening in some places and then virtually non-existent in others.

The sand was made thick and sticky as a result of all the torrential rain. The horses whinnied and brayed because of the heavy rain and the uncomfortable terrain which was under their feet constantly.

However, they all took refuge in the fact that Alexander's calculations were actually indeed correct. They had reached the location of the apparent oracle within less than an hour. By the time they had gotten to their destination, the rain was not nearly as severe as it was when they had set out from their last encampment. The rain was now little more than a light shower. All of the men sighed happily and the horses nickered gladly.

Alexander leapt off of Bucephalus' back and walked over to a strange looking hut. It looked very odd to him, because this small and less than sturdy structure was just sat there in the middle of a potentially brutal desert. Anything could happen to it. The multitude of harsh winds and sandstorms could easily destroy it but this had apparently not deterred the inhabitants.

Alexander then announced his presence to whoever it was that was supposedly listening. The door of the little hut swung open and a short woman appeared in front of him. She seemed to be the oldest person that Alexander had ever seen. Her skin was wrinkled on almost every part of her visible body and her black cloak had a strange sort of mothball odour.

"You are Alexander?" The strange old woman asked him quietly. She sounded like a rasping crow when she talked.

He nodded. "I am," he replied, uncertainly. He looked over the woman's shoulder and noticed two other women. They were much younger than she was; probably the same age as he was. They were both very beautiful, but had their eyes tightly closed.

"What is it that you wish to know?" She asked him. She began to study him. She looked at his clothes and his armour and at the still healing wound on his shoulder.

"My father," he began slowly, hoping that she could understand him properly. "He was murdered. Have any knowledge of the murderers escaped me?" He asked.

She shook her head. "My dear boy," she said. "You ought to guard your questions more carefully. Philip is not your father," she revealed to him.

Alexander, being too shocked to take it in, changed the form of his question. "Have all of the traitors been punished?" He then asked her.

"They have. Your father is fully avenged," she replied.

Alexander called out of the tent loudly, which caused the women who had their eyes closed, to open them in alarm. "Perdiccas," he said. "Bring the jewels."

Perdiccas obeyed his king and handed over the spectacular wealth of jewels which they had acquired from Gaza, Tyre and Granicus to Alexander. He took them and gave them to the priestess. "The offerings!" Alexander then called out to his men. Cassander came into the tent and with him, he had large quantities of exotic fruits and precious stones. Alexander took them and gave them as offerings to the god.

When Cassander had left the tent, Alexander remembered what the oracle had said to him earlier on in their conversation. "What was your meaning when you said Philip was not my father?" He demanded from the oracle.

"My meaning was clear, was it not?" The oracle unhelpfully replied to him. "Philip is not your father; descendant of the great Heracles and Achilles. You share the same ancestor as these heroes."

Alexander shook his head in absolute disbelief. Achilles and Heracles had one common ancestor, and that was Zeus. He stumbled out of the tent and made his way back to Bucephalus.

Hephaestion, sending that something was wrong, went over to him. "What did she say?" He asked him curiously.

Alexander didn't say anything. He just shook his head and the tears started to form in his eyes. The worry had grown too much for him. There were too many questioned left unanswered and he was confused even more by the oracle's strange words. He rubbed his temples vigorously, but before he could mount Bucephalus, Hephaestion put a hand on his arm. "Alexander?" He asked him nervously. "What is it?"

"I am the son of Zeus," Alexander replied emptily as he stared at his friend.


	17. The battle of Gaugamela

CHAPTER 16: 331BC: THE BATTLE OF GAUGAMELA 3232

Alexander had managed to capture some Persian scouts. He had sent them off to find out what exactly it was that Darius was now planning, but they had not returned yet. Alexander was nervous, and was sitting in his royal tent, biting his fingernails. He sighed and tried to think of something else to occupy himself with, whilst he was waiting for the Persian scouts to come back to him, that is, if they did actually return.

He stood up, after deciding that there was no point in worrying himself with it. However, once he had gotten up out of his chair, he just simply began to pace the room, with his mind almost consumed by huge amounts of worry and other deep thoughts.

Parmenion was standing outside of the royal tent. He was contemplating whether or not he should go in and see what exactly it was that Alexander was doing. He could hear the king's murmurings and the pacing of his small feet on the floor. At last, after realising that standing outside staring at the trees and birds was going to make absolutely no difference whatsoever, he decided to enter the tent. "My king," he began nobly as he took a tentative step inside the tent.

Alexander instantly span around to face him. "Yes, Parmenion?" He asked him, sounding quite alarmed at his sudden and unexpected presence.

"We still have no word from the Persian scouts," Parmenion said bluntly, not really wanting to concern his king.

Alexander stepped over to him and said, "I know they haven't arrived!" He suddenly felt himself starting to get a little hot and he stepped back and said apologetically," I am sorry, Parmenion. I think I am just too engaged with this business."

"Not at all," Parmenion said to him kindly, accepting his apology. "I shall let you know immediately should the time arise when the scouts are here," he then informed him.

Alexander nodded at him gratefully. "Thank you, Parmenion."

Less than a few minutes after Parmenion had left, Hephaestion walked into the king's tent. "Alexander?" He called out to him quietly.

Alexander turned do face his friend and then said, sounding quite surprised by him being there, "Hephaestion?"

"The scouts are here," his friend informed him.

"Parmenion said he would tell me," Alexander said, unaware that he was actually thinking aloud.

Hephaestion blushed a little. "He was going to, but then I… volunteered," he said quietly.

Alexander smiled at his friend. "Not to worry," he said kindly.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Hephaestion spoke up again, saying, "I will bring the scouts to you."

Smilingly, Alexander nodded at him.

Hephaestion went out of the tent briefly and then the two Persian scouts, along with five of the companion cavalry, came into Alexander's royal tent. Cassander, who was holding onto one of the scouts, thrust the scout onto the floor quite violently. Perdiccas, who had the other scout, did it in a less violent manner. Alexander glared at Cassander for doing so.

"What knowledge do you have?" Alexander questioned the two scouts as they stared at the floor, wide-eyed.

They were the same age, the two scouts. They both had dark eyes and dark hair, all characteristic of the Persian people. They were virtually polar opposites of Alexander, who had blonde curly hair, light eyes and a pale complexion. "Darius' army…" one of the scouts said to Alexander quietly, and sounding quite tired. "They are… marching," he concluded.

"Marching?" Alexander then repeated, not feeling all that satisfied with the response that he had gotten.

Perdiccas saw the king's disappointment and he slipped his hand into the sheath of his sword and was about to draw out the weapon. Alexander gave him a horrified look, so Perdiccas had to put his sword back, much to his annoyance. Alexander then said to the two Persian scouts, "Where to? Where are they marching?"

"Gaugamela," the other scout replied to him in a quite tone of voice. "They are marching to Gaugamela."

"How long until they reach it?" Alexander asked them, trying hard to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

The first scout replied, "They set out a long time ago. They should get there very soon."

"I need numbers!" Alexander demanded from them. "How many days? Weeks?" He said nervously.

"Probably days," the scout answered him. "Sire," he then added quietly.

Alexander signalled for the two scouts to be led out of the tent, and he did not tell Perdiccas and Cassander what to do with them. He did not care what it was. Hephaestion walked over to his king; his friend and said to him slowly, "I presume we are to march?"

Alexander looked up at him and nodded solemnly. "We are."

"Now?" Hephaestion asked him, secretly hoping that the answer would not be yes.

Alexander was actually about to give the order for the men to start marching towards Gaugamela. However, something stopped him from doing that. He was not sure what it was, which caused him some annoyance. He thought that it was Hephaestion's pleading face. He could see that the man was tired, and so we he himself. The wound to his shoulder that he had sustained from the siege at Gaza was no basically fully healed, and he was able to move his arm with no difficulty. However, he was tired and he needed to rest, and he knew that all of his men did as well.

So, Alexander replied, "No, not yet."

Hephaestion smiled at him gratefully.

"Darius can wait," Alexander then said, smiling thinly.

Feeling well rested and with more energy than they had had for quite some time, Alexander and his army embarked on the short march to Gaugamela. They had fortified their new camp with an impressive ditch and a palisade. At their previous camp, he had left the baggage animals, as he knew that they would be very slow; he also left the soldiers whom he felt were not fit for combat. And so, Alexander himself had marched out towards the battlefield with the rest of the soldiers. They carried with them nothing, in spite of Parmenion's protests to do otherwise, but only their armour and their weapons.

They had marched at nightfall, as this was when the air around them would be cooler and there would be less opportunity for either Persian spies or predatory animals to catch sight of them.

"Are you sure you wish to engage with the Persians at dawn?" Hephaestion asked his king as they rode out on their two noble steeds.

Alexander patted Bucephalus's neck softly and then turned to face his friend. "I am. Why?"

"No reason," Hephaestion replied to him quickly.

When both armies; Macedonian and Persian, had reached the soon to be battlefield, they were positioned about sixty stades apart.

Cassander sat up high on his horse's back, in the hope of getting a better view of the enemy. Hephaestion, who was quite a bit taller than the young soldier looked at him and smiled. "I would not bother, if I were you," he said simply. "I doubt even Heracles could see over those hills," he said as he gestured to the massive mounds of earth which were placed before them; in between their army and Darius' army.

"We will have to march over the hills," Hephaestion said as he looked at his king hopefully.

Alexander had been into too deep a train of thought for him to be able to hear what his friend had said. He had heard something, so he turned his head and stared blankly at Hephaestion. "Sorry?" He said, still sounding a little out of it.

Hephaestion raised an eyebrow slightly. "The hills," he explained.

Alexander nodded slowly. "Ah, yes," he said. "The hills."

And so, saying that, Alexander gave the order to his army and they all began to march over what they thought to be the smallest hill out of the great selection which had been put before them.

Alexander craned his neck a little and he quickly caught sight of the Persian forces. He raised up his hand, signalling for his own phalanx to come to a halt, which they promptly did.

"Sire" Parmenion said as he came trotting over on his white horse.

Alexander turned to face him. "Yes, Parmenion?" He asked him.

Parmenion said, "I would advise that we set up camp here."

So, it was decided that they would follow the experienced general's advice. Alexander, in a way, felt that he more or less owed Parmenion, after having not accepted his quite logical advice at the battle of the Granicus River.

"Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Cassander," Alexander called out their names authoritatively. "You and I will make a circuit of the whole area," he then said. "Along with the best light armed troops," he finished off his orders.

On horseback, Hephaestion, Perdiccas and Cassander followed Alexander, along with the other light armed troops, who were walking on foot. They marched around more or less the entirety of what would be the battlefield in much less time than they had thoughts it would take to.

When they returned to their camp, with Alexander essentially wholly satisfied that everything would more or less go to plan, the king rode over to the front of the battle line. "Men such as yourselves, need no more encouragement," he called out nobly to them all. He continued to trot along the lines, saying, "Who is this so called king?" He let loose a short sneer at the thought of Darius. "A man who pays an assassin in coins to murder my father; our king, in such a cowardly way! Who is this king who enslaves his own men to fight? What are they fighting for? Not for their country or their wives and children or their pride, but for him! Under his solemn orders!" He finished and his men let out a terrifying, determined battle cry.

Alexander settled back into his position at the head of the Companion cavalry, with Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Cassander, Callisthenes, Coenus, Philotas, Parmenion, Craterus and Ptolemy closely behind him, in their characteristic wedge-shaped formation.

Hephaestion smiled at his king as they stood beside each other. "I have never heard you speak with such passion," he said to Alexander.

"There was no need for me to do so before," Alexander replied to him, with a thin grin on his handsome face. "These men fight because their king tells them too," he then said firmly. "They have nothing to match us, in regards to bravery and courage." He then raised his voice considerable and turned to face the rest of his forces, crying, "We are not here as slaves, we are here as Macedonian freemen!"

Once again, his soldiers gave the battle cry, and this time it seemed to be louder than it had ever been before.

"Some of you, maybe myself, will not live to see the sun set today. But, conquer your fears and I promise you – you will conquer death!" He cried out angrily. He turned his head back to the front. "For the freedom and glory of Greece!" He yelled. He turned to face his Companion cavalry. "Hephaestion, go!" He yelled and his dear friend galloped off with a piercing yell and his section of the cavalry followed closely. "Cassander, go!" Alexander yelled, and Cassander did. His face bore a terrifying sneer and his hair was flowing madly behind him.

"Phalanx, turn left!" Alexander called out to his infantry soldiers and he himself dug his heel into Bucephalus' strong flank and the horse reared up and galloped ferociously toward the enemy. It's mane streaming behind its dark head, with Alexander's golden hair doing much the same thing.

Slashing his sword and holding up his mighty shield, Alexander rode past the first line of the Persian defence with very little difficulty. Darius' numerous foot soldiers began to clamber over the bodies of their many dead comrades, with the hope burning deep into their minds that they could be the one to kill Alexander, king of Macedonia. However, Alexander would just weep down his sword, severing the heads of the enemies and thrusting his spear deep into their chests. They would fall to the ground with a loud groan and the last thing they would see would be their own blood spurting up before their eyes.

"I urge you, men," Alexander yelled out to his soldiers. "Take a long look at these Persians, for I think this will be the last time we will have to set eyes on them!"

In response to those encouraging words, the soldiers picked up their speed massively and attacked every single Persian which they saw. When their comrades fell at the hands of a Persian barbarian, they would not pause for even the slightest of moments; instead, they would subject the slayer to the most brutal of deaths imaginable.

With much difficulty, Alexander craned his head over the tumultuous happenings around him and he searched for one of his cavalry officers. "Aretas!" He yelled to the man.

The young man thrust his spear deep into the torso of a fallen Persian soldier. He pulled it out firmly and turned to face his king. "Alexander!" He replied loudly. "Are you in trouble?" He asked, suddenly fearing for his king's life.

"Not at all," Alexander called back to the young man. "Lead the left wing to attack the Persian right wing!"

Aretas gave his king a firm nod of his head. Then, he gestured to the Macedonian left wing to follow him and they all did.

Alexander then took a look around and he saw that his right wing of cavalry was getting into trouble. The Persians had, somehow, managed to encircle the Macedonian right wing, however, Alexander saw his chance arrive promptly and he led his Companion cavalry, in the usual wedge formation and they drove through the gap in the Persian front line. He then led them at a run with a full battle cry straight in the direction of Darius himself.

Alexander pressed himself strongly against the Persian cavalry and infantry. He and his men thrust their spears deep into the flesh of both horse and men alike, with terrifying screams and cries breaking loose amongst them. The Persians, as a result, were left simply terrified and more or less lost. They had essentially lost their battle formation and now chaos was ensuing almost everywhere. Some of the Persian soldiers made attempts to flee the battlefield, but it was all in vain, as Alexander was determined to not let any of them get away with their lives. Either he himself would gallop on after the Persian deserters, or he would order his men to if he was otherwise engaged.

Looking through the immense sea of struggling and fighting, Hephaestion quickly noticed that there was something quite wrong. Their baggage train was in trouble and the Persians had, somehow, managed to make their way through the tiny gap in the Macedonian line of battle and the defenceless screams of the animals and unfit soldiers became piercingly apparent to him. He called out to Alexander, in order to alert him of the new found problem that they now had to face and Alexander acknowledged it.

As a result, Alexander called out to his men for them to change their normal formation and they managed to encircle the struggling Persians, many of whom had actually lost their weapons and shields because of all the intense fighting. They fell upon the Persians from the rear and slaughtered them where they stood.

In the meantime, probably taking advantage of the struggle and confusion which was quickly and surely consuming his own soldiers, Darius took off in his golden, bejewelled chariot and fled the scene of battle at full speed. Luckily for him, no one had noticed as yet. However, Alexander had seen and he had set off by himself in hot pursuit of the king.

Parmenion, who was holding the Macedonian left wing, along with help from the young but courageous Aretas, was hit with the shattering realisation that the Persians had outflanked Alexander's men and were beginning to attack them. At this moment in time, the Macedonians were, for the first time, being forced to fight on two fronts. Alexander was told that Parmenion's troops were in trouble and, as soon as he had heard this, he stopped his pursuit of Darius and turned to charge at the right wing of the Persians.

The barbarians turned and engaged with Alexander's men at close quarters. The javelin throwing and spear thrusting had mostly been abandoned and forgotten about by the Macedonians, and now all of the conflict was hand-to-hand; fighting with swords and daggers. Alexander looked around him and it disheartened him greatly when he saw that many of his own companions had fallen. He found Hephaestion and saw that his great friend had been wounded. His face was smeared with blood, and Alexander did not know whether it was Hephaestion's blood or the bloody of the enemy.

More and more Persians began to flee and Alexander managed to turn a blind eye and he let them run away, for he knew that there were more pressing matters at hand for him to be dealing with. The whole of the Persian right wing had either fled or died and those few who were actually alive were only clinging to life by the very thinnest of threads.

Meanwhile, Parmenion had shown great companionship and leadership skills. Alexander was the only one who had managed to equal his qualities. Parmenion had lead and attack on the Persian camp and had, as a result, captured the elephants, camels and other baggage animals, such as their many horses and donkeys.

The Persians saw that it was over and they promptly withdrew. In all, they had lost more than fifty thousand of their soldiers to death. A considerable amount more had been taken as prisoners. The Macedonians suffered loss of a much smaller king; around one thousand cavalry and a hundred of their infantry soldiers. The horse of the Hellenic forces had suffered more than they actual men that were riding them.

"Lord of all Asia," Hephaestion said to Alexander as the king walked into the infirmary. Hephaestion was sat on a bed whilst two maids tried to care for his wounds. When the king entered, the two maids stood up and paid their respects to him, before they left so that Alexander and Hephaestion could be alone.

Alexander smiled thinly and sat down beside his friend. "You should be more careful," he said.

Hephaestion smiled and the replied, "You should have taken better care of me, my lord." He smiled and touched his wounded head. He had been injured when a Persian cavalryman had slashed him with a dagger. The blood had more or less ceased flowing, but it still smarted and he was very wary that it could infected. "You seem to be fine," he said as he studied his king, trying to look for any wounds that he might have been dealt.

"I have been lucky," Alexander replied simply.

"Then, why are you here?" Hephaestion asked him as he cocked his head slightly to one side.

"Because," Alexander said. "I wanted to be sure that you were well." He then picked up the cloth which the maids had been using to clean Hephaestion's wounds and he dabbed at the injury on his friend's head carefully.


	18. The founding of Alexandria

CHAPTER 17: 331BC: THE FOUNDING OF ALEXANDRIA 1093

The leader of the Companion cavalry, Hephaestion, smiled uncertainly at his king as they sat down together in the king's royal tent. "I still can't quite believe that you are naming a city after yourself," he said, putting it forward to Alexander.

Alexander, sat beside him, nodded thoughtfully, thinking about what his great friend had just said to him. His brilliant eyes flickered up and scanned the room, before finally coming to a stop to settle on Hephaestion's perfect features. "Why do you say that?" He asked his friend, as he was not entirely sure what the cause was for Hephaestion to ask such an odd and rather unexpected question of him.

Hephaestion thought for a moment, gathering his thoughts on what he should offer as a response. "I am not sure," he replied whole-heartedly. "I think…" he then carried on, after a brief pause. "That I thought you were going to conquer more cities."

"I cannot deny that that was a thought in my head," Alexander admitted to him simply. "However, I know the Persians are now at bay; for I doubt they will attack."

Hephaestion smiled thinly at him. "They are sure not to; if you are going to exercise your fearless pursuit of Darius again," he said.

Suddenly, as soon as Hephaestion had mentioned the Great King's name, Alexander began to feel annoyed with himself. "Although," he then said quietly. "I should like to capture Darius," he finished off his sentence."

"I am sure," Hephaestion stated bluntly. "But, you need your rest," he then added. "Darius is hardly worth someone such as yourself chasing after him just because he gets too scared to face you for battle."

Alexander nodded carefully, thinking at his words. "I understand that, Hephaestion," he said slowly and very quietly. "But, what I don't understand is why I cannot find a way to control my hatred for Darius; my desire to kill him." He bowed his head ever so slightly and looked down at his hands as they lay there emptily, seeming almost lost, in his lap.

Hephaestion looked at him pitifully. "Because you are Alexander," he replied, trying to sound happy about it, in the vain hope that his mood may actually transfer to Alexander. "You have always been one for excitement and adventure, have you not?"

Alexander looked at him very briefly and then he nodded slowly.

"Then, that is just what is to be expected," Hephaestion replied lightly. "You are Alexander," he said. "Of course you wish for Darius to suffer; after all he has done to us Macedonians."

Alexander sniffed a little, and was actually unaware that he had even done so. "Then, tell me this Hephaestion," he said. "Why should I bother to name a city after me; and found countless more, when people will already remember me as being the boy-king who could not kill the king of the barbarians?"

Hephaestion rubbed his temples briefly and then said, trying to sound as kind as possible as he did so, "You will be remembered for the man that you are, Alexander. You have won so many battles and done so many deeds and you are not even an old man!"

Alexander smiled thinly and a short, dry laugh escaped from his lips.

"You have already outdone your father, with regards to military and personal achievements," he then said hopefully. "You have people who care about you… People who love you."

Alexander instantly lifted his head up at the sound of that. His eyes fell upon Hephaestion and he smiled weakly. Hephaestion stopped talking and found that he could not stop looking at his king. However, feeling nervous and almost unsure of what he should do next, he said quickly, "Your mother, and your father, they both love you. You have and always shall have the respect of your soldiers. I respect you, Alexander," he said softly. "I care about you." The word 'love' would not leave his mouth.

"And I you, Hephaestion," Alexander replied quietly, deeply meaning every single word of it. "But that cannot save me from myself. I need to kill Darius. I need revenge for my father, and for Macedonia."

"You are forgetting," Hephaestion began carefully. "Killing a man can also carry with it burdens. "Know you not of Achilles and Heracles, and their dreadful ends?"

Alexander bowed his head respectfully for the two fallen heroes. He didn't speak; he didn't know what to say.

"They both killed and they both were driven mad by what claiming the life of another had done to them," Hephaestion said warningly.

"I have killed men before, Hephaestion," Alexander replied. "You know that."

"Yes, but… if you kill Darius, the Great King, I fear that it will not pass on by with no consequences to present to you. The deaths of those Persian soldiers had not affected you, but the fall of Darius will strike you with a heavy blow," Hephaestion advised his king. "Just think that you are better than Darius. He is not worth the touch of your sword." He paused for a slight moment to look at his troubled friend. "Is there not love in your life, Alexander?" He then asked him.

Alexander's ears almost prick up at the sound of that. "There is," he replied whole-heartedly. "There is," he repeated, almost in a whispering tone. He bowed his head and he felt Hephaestion's hand on his cheek. He looked at him.

"What are you going to name the new city?" Hephaestion asked as he stared into his friend's almost other-worldly eyes.

"Cassander has suggested Alexandria," Alexander replied.

"That is a good name," Hephaestion replied. "Should I have children, I shall call a girl Alexandria and a boy will be called Alexander." Silence then engulfed the room. "You will be remembered for all the right reasons," Hephaestion said, instantly breaking the uncomfortable stillness.

"I wonder what Alexander will call this new city," Perdiccas said, pondering about the matter aloud, even though he thought he was thinking quietly and to himself.

Philotas simply looked at him and gave a slight shrug. "Probably Alexandropolis," he said with a broad, mocking smile.

Just at that moment, Cassander strode over to them. "Alexandropolis?" He asked, with a smirk plastered on his young, bronzed face.

"What's wrong with that?" Philotas asked the nineteen-year-old soldier.

"Nothing is wrong with it," Cassander said, smiling. "But that will not be the name of the new Egyptian city. There is already an Alexandropolis."

"How do you know Alexander will not choose Alexandropolis?" Perdiccas questioned him.

"Because I suggested," he paused, trying to make it more theatrical than it really needed to be. Then, he added, "Alexandria."


	19. Only superstitions

CHAPTER 18: 330BC: ONLY SUPERSITIONS 1207

The sun rose high up in the sky and it's blazingly hot ray were felt by every soldier. As a result, many of the soldiers decided to remove their cuirasses and greaves and helmets, but kept their tunics and sandals on. The sun was, for lack of a better word, actually uncomfortably hot. Alexander had slept in, and the bright yellow rays of the sun had, surprisingly and oddly, not appeared to have had any sort of adverse effect on him. He was sleeping sweetly, lying face down on the bed with his arms handing off the edges. Although he did not know it, he was snoring, and quite loudly too.

Meanwhile, whilst their king was still in a deep sleep, some of the Companion cavalry were sat around a large wooden table in the tent next to Alexander's royal one, and were drinking and talking about various irreverent subject matters.

"They're calling him the philobasileus," Cassander said in as quiet a tone of voice that he could manage to withhold.

Philotas stared blankly at his friend and cocked his head to one side ever so slightly. "Philobasileus? Why would you say that?" He asked Cassander, with a questioning look on his face.

Cassander grinned and then pulled a face. "Because, Craterus is a lover of the king!" He said rather too loudly than he should have done. Luckily for him though, Craterus was outside, having been seemingly unfazed by the intensely blazing sunlight which seemed to be forever shining their way.

"A… what?" Philotas asked him, trying to keep the shock from out of his voice. "But, I thought—"

"No," Cassander said quickly, interrupting Philotas' speech. "Hephaestion is the philalexandros," he then explained to his friend.

Philotas raised an eyebrow slightly at that and then it dropped back down to normal level. "A…" he paused, trying to let it sink in. "Lover of Alexander?" He asked, his voice sounding quite hoarse and very confused.

Cassander nodded and then replied to him, "Yes. Precisely."

Hephaestion, who had been sitting nearby, had heard every single word of this. He fought hard to keep the anger inside of him and he finally succeeded. He held his breath, with great difficulty, and then stormed out of the tent. He did not know where else to go. He was going to mount Ganymede and just take off, but he did not and he was not sure why he didn't.

At that moment, Alexander strode into the tent. Basically as soon as he had stepped only a foot onto the tent, he felt himself being pushed back by Hephaestion as his friend stormed past him and went out into the open. Alexander raised a slight eyebrow and then was still for a short moment. His companions, who had been bust talking and drinking amongst themselves, fell silent and stared expectantly at their king. Alexander, however, ignored their stares and he turned on his heel, thus walking out of the tent.

"Hephaestion?" He called out, trying not to be louder than he needed to be. He wandered around the vast majority of the camp, and yet, he still could not see his friend. He looked in every tent and went back to his own royal tent, however, he could not find Hephaestion. Feeling understandably concerned for his friend's welfare, he proceeded to search around the tent. He then went over to the makeshift stables, where the many horses were kept. He noticed that Hephaestion's horse, Ganymede, was still there, as was Bucephalus. The two stallions were braying and whinnying happily, blissfully unaware that their masters were confused and worried about one another.

Alexander shook his head in deep frustration. Then, he walked out of the stables, almost walking into two confused and rather alarmed stable hands as he did so. He had so much on his mind that he did not even pause to stop and apologise for his rudeness. He walked over to the small gathering of trees which was situated only a few hundred metres away. He walked into the little forest. "Hephaestion?" He called out to his friend. "I'm worried about you," he said. "Where are you?" He got no response and responded to this by kicking a nearby tree. He was too concerned and too confused to even register the pain which the impact of the hard tree on his fragile foot had brought him. "Hephaestion?" He called out again. He walked on for a few minutes and then he saw a figure standing by a small river. He walked over to the river, taking tentative steps as he did so. "Hephaestion?" He asked nervously, not being able to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

The figure turned around and Alexander instantly saw that it was Hephaestion. Except, it did not look like Hephaestion. His perfect features were flawed with the wetness of tears and his once beautifully blue eyes were stained with red from turmoil and upset. He looked so wounded that it almost pained Alexander to see it. "Hephaestion?" Alexander asked softly. "What is it?"

"You, Alexander," Hephaestion said, pointing an intrusive and judgemental finger in his direction. "Are the last person I wish to see."

Alexander was taken aback. He could have this man flogged for this act of rudeness, but the thought did not even cross his mind. "What is wrong, Hephaestion?" He asked him as he took a few small steps closer.

Hephaestion held back his tears and his rage. "You love Craterus," he said, sounding as if he were injured.

Alexander frowned lightly and then said, "I don't, Hephaestion." He walked over to him, so that they were barely half a metre apart. "I promise you."

"Perdiccas… Cassander… Philotas," Hephaestion said in a quiet tone of voice. "They say that he is the king's lover."

"Then…" Alexander said, reaching for Hephaestion's hand. "They are wrong. It is you I love, Hephaestion. No one else."

Hephaestion was quiet and he reluctantly let Alexander take his hand, after flinching away.

Alexander placed Hephaestion's hand to his own heart and said softly, "Craterus is an old man. He is my best commander, I cannot deny that."

Hearing that, the light seemed to fade from Hephaestion's eyes and he cast his gaze down to the muddy ground, looking at his feet.

"But you," Alexander said, caressing Hephaestion's cheek. "Are my best friend. You are the only one I trust. In all this world; only you."

Hephaestion shrugged Alexander's hand off his face, but Alexander promptly put it back. "It is a rumour, no more," the king rectified. "Philalexandros means you love me for being Alexander, does it not?" He asked.

Hephaestion nodded. "It does," he replied, his words being almost inaudible.

"And philobaesilus means Craterus loves me because I am king," Alexander then added. "If someone loves me for who I am, then why would I want someone to love me because of my title? I would not," he said, answering his own question. "I love you, Hephaestion, not Craterus, nor anyone else."

"You do not love Craterus?" Hephaestion asked his king slowly and unsurely.

"Of course I do not," Alexander replied and Hephaestion was not sure if he believed him or not.


	20. The Pages conspiracy

CHAPTER 19: THE PAGES CONSPIRACY 1801

Hephaestion yawned and stretched out his arms. He rolled over in the bed and was surprised, almost actually alarmed, when he saw that someone was in the bed with him. He blinked several times and tried to think of who it could be, whilst his eyes had the task of trying to adjust to the mid-morning sunlight which was streaming into the tent. Once he thought that his eyes were ready to face the day, he turned his head to the side and saw that it was a man next to him. The very thought of it almost brought a shiver down his spine. If it had been a woman, then he knew that he would be very happy, but also confused, because there were no women on their expedition. Then, he remembered and looked at the curly blonde hair of the figure lying beside him and he cursed under his breath. "Alexander?" He asked slowly.

The blue and green eyes of the king steadily opened and looked around the room, before settling on Hephaestion. "Hephaestion?" He said, apparently being just as alarmed as he was. "I… I…"

"I shouldn't be here," Hephaestion said indignantly and he sat up and looked down to see that he was still wearing his chiton. He bent down and threw his chlamys over his shoulder angrily.

Alexander cocked his even more head to the left, as it always seemed to be bent a little that way. He studied Hephaestion and asked him, "Why do you say that?"

"We were arguing," Hephaestion stated bluntly. "I do not want to be here. I should go." He then got out of the bed and made for the exit of the tent.

Alexander didn't go after him. Instead, he decided to stay where he was. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

As he walked out of the tent, with no sandals on, Hephaestion expected to get some strange looks from his fellow soldiers, and that expectation was delivered. He knew that they were gossiping and talking. He bowed his head, mostly out of shame and embarrassment, but also due to the deep confusion that he was feeling.

He tried desperately to block out the judgmental glances from his friends and comrades. He could just about see, out of the corner of his eye that Philotas and Cassander were stood to one side and they had raised eyebrows and were gossiping about the sight which they had both just witnessed.

He went over to the stables and walked towards his horse. He stroked its mane and patted it on the neck. "Oh, Ganymede," he muttered, partly to the horse and partly to himself. "What have I done? Is it right for me to be confused?"

Back in his tent, Alexander had just about managed to get back to sleep, when he was awoken by Parmenion's presence. The old general announced his presence and when he did not receive a reply from the king, he decided to not bother to wait for one and he just walked over to the king. "My king?" He asked, hoping that Alexander would at last wake up this time and acknowledge his presence.

Alexander sat up and got out of the bed. Parmenion turned away whilst his king put on his clothes. Alexander adjusted his chiton and then said, "Yes, Parmenion? What is it?"

Parmenion, who guessed that Alexander had finished getting dressed, turned back around to face him. "It is late in the day, are you not going to take up your duties?" He asked, trying to sound polite.

Alexander started to pace around the room. He rubbed his temples vigorously and then he finally turned to face the loyal general. "I will, Parmenion," he replied, although what he really wanted was to stay where he was and think about him and Hephaestion.

And so, hearing that, Parmenion nodded respectfully to his young king and then walked out of the tent.

Alexander was actually true to his word when he had told Parmenion that he would soon be leaving his tent. A few minutes after Parmenion had left his tent, he hunted around the tent for his dagger and took it, concealing it with his chlamys, not wanting to alarm his soldiers, because they would surely be worried when they saw that their king was carrying with him, a weapon for no particular reason.

Then, he walked out of the royal tent and found that he was once again searching for Hephaestion. He went over to the river, which was concealed in between the thick, small forest. He had hoped that Hephaestion would be there this time around, just like he was before. But, he wasn't. Alexander cursed loudly and threw the dagger into the river and watched the gleaming bit of metal as it slowly sank down to the gloomy depths of the sparkling river. He didn't even really know what exactly the reason for him to bring the dagger with him was.

He left the river and began to walk back to the camp. Then, however, he noticed some movement in the stables. He frowned and stood still where he was for a short moment. He thought that it was very plausible that the movement in the stables was just a horse that had become spooked by a snake or something as useless as that. Nevertheless, his warrior instinct began to kick in. He wondered to himself about what could have made the movement. The horses were all thoroughbreds and would fetch a very good price at the market, so Alexander thought that it could be an intruder. He sighed, annoyed that he had thrown away his dagger. He searched around in his chiton and then remembered that he kept a small dagger in his left shoe. He took his sandal off and removed the tiny weapon with delicate hands.

He thought about alerting the men to some sort of disturbance or intruder of sorts, but he quickly found that he should decide against it. There may be no problem at all in the stables, and Alexander knew that he would very much appear to be a fool in the eyes of his men, just because he had warned them of trouble in the stables when it was a harmless, simple little mouse scurrying about, doing its mundane business.

Alexander held the little dagger firmly in right hand and went over to the temporary stables. He opened the door and took tentative steps around the place. "Hello?" He said, speaking with a shaking voice. I would sound such a fool, if there really is no one here! He thought to himself, feeling annoyed. He proceeded further into the stables, walking past Bucephalus, until he finally came to the end of the complex and was just about to turn around when he saw the movement again. He raised the dagger up, ready to strike at whoever it was. Just as he was about to bring the weapon down and stick it deep into the intruder's neck, he stopped and he realised who it was. "Hephaestion?" He stuttered, confused and worried for his friend.

Hephaestion took his hand off Ganymede's auburn mane and set it down on his lap. "Alexander? What do you want?" He asked, not bothering to look up at his friend.

"I don't understand why you're acting like this, Hephaestion," Alexander said openly. "You seem so distant."

"I am confused, Alexander. Very confused," Hephaestion said admittedly. "I used to think of you as the sun and I would hope that your light would shine upon all men that walk this earth. But, now, I just don't know."

"I am sorry, Hephaestion," Alexander said as he cupped Hephaestion's chin and looked at him deeply. "I am."

"First, it's you and Craterus," Hephaestion said quietly. "And I know that that is true." He paused and his aquamarine eyes flickered down to look briefly at the straw-covered floor. "And now," he began again. "I… I just don't know. I'm confusing myself."

Alexander stepped forward and brushed the hair from out of his friend's eyes. "I meant what I said about Craterus. I have been busy; preoccupied, that's all. I am sorry for that."

Without wanting to sound too rude, Hephaestion said to him, "What are you busy with? We haven't had a battle for almost a year now. We've heard no more from Darius than we have from Zeus."

"I have spoken to Aristander," Alexander said, bowing his head slightly as he did so.

"Aristander?" Hephaestion repeated derisively. "He is a seer. Why would you want to speak with him?"

"I know you do not agree with prophecies and omens, Hephaestion," Alexander replied to him delicately. "But, I trust in Aristander, and that is why I am so very concerned about what he has said to me."

"What is it that he has said?" Hephaestion asked nervously and he could almost actually see the elements of horror in his friend's magical eyes.

"That there are people I know… people whom I am close to, that are plotting against me," Alexander replied weakly.

Hephaestion stood back, aghast. "Surely you do not suspect me?" He asked, his eyes full of horror and worry.

Alexander shook his head firmly. "No, of course I do not, Hephaestion," he said, trying to smile. "If there is indeed anyone in this world who I trust, it is you."

"Who is it that you have your suspicions about?" Hephaestion asked him cautiously, trying to think of who it could be.

After a short moment of thinking, Alexander replied slowly, "I am not certain. However, Aristander said I should be wary of Parmenion and his son."

"Philotas?" Hephaestion said loudly, his voice full of surprise. "How could you possibly suspect him?"

"Parmenion and, therefore Philotas, has a very strong claim to the Macedonian throne," Alexander said to him quietly.

"But, the throne is yours, Alexander," Hephaestion said to him, slightly missing the point that Alexander was trying to make.

"Not if the words Aristander speaks are the truth," Alexander said, suddenly sounding concerned and his facial expression grew grimmer. He placed the small dagger back into his sandal carefully and then looked around the stables for a brief moment.

"Do you believe him?" Hephaestion asked him, praying to Zeus that the answer would be a solid 'no'.

Alexander shrugged and then replied, "Omens are the words of the gods. I have to believe them."

"Surely you won't, Alexander? You cannot be serious. These are your friends, your comrades, Alexander," Hephaestion reminded him, with the hope that his friend would finally start to see sense again.


	21. The death of Parmenion and Philotas

CHAPTER 20: 330BC: THE DEATH OF PARMENION AND PHILOTAS 2152

Every single one of the soldiers who formed the mighty Companion cavalry of the Macedonian army was summoned to the main tent of the camp. The most important and most respected of Alexander's generals and commanders and shield bearers were in the assembly. Every single person in the assembly was silent, with the exception of a few, such as Cassander, who, being young, found it very hard to be quiet for an extended period of time.

Perdiccas turned to face Cassander, who was looking annoyed. "What is it?" He asked him, becoming frustrated by Cassander's muttering and feet shuffling.

Cassander regarded the commander. "This is so boring," he murmured. "When can we do some fighting?"

"Have you forgotten Granicus and Issus and Tyre, and all the other battles we have fought?" Perdiccas questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

Cassander shrugged. "It's just that there are so many things we could be doing, other than standing here waiting for Alexander to tell us all how important it is that we help his expand his empire. The world cannot be that big, can it? It has to end sometime."

Chuckling, Perdiccas said, "You would think that."

"I haven't seen a girl in years. I haven't seen my mother in years. I want to go home," the young soldier complained.

"So do I," Perdiccas reminded him, consolingly. "Still, the rewards from fighting with Alexander are to be extraordinary. When we come home—"

Cassander cut him off, saying firmly, "If we come home."

"Then, I am sure we will see the benefits. Right now, you can't walk out on the army."

Hephaestion was stood at the front of the assembly, facing the rest of the men. He was struggling to find a patch of land where he could stare and be sure that the soldiers would not be looking back at him. For, he knew they would surely not be forgetting his rendezvous with Alexander.

However, Alexander himself was not yet at the assembly. Hephaestion looked around for him, but his search was cut short when he saw Alexander emerge from the curtains. He called out to the sea of awaiting men, "Silence for the king!"

Alexander marched into the room and positioned himself at the head of the assembly. Hephaestion gave him a concerned and warning look, before he stepped back.

Alexander looked at the faces of his men. They had no idea about what he was going to say. In fact, the only people who possessed that particular knowledge were himself, Hephaestion and Aristander. Likewise, Alexander had told two of his most trusted bodyguards of his suspicions of Parmenion and Philotas. He was searching for the supposed traitors and soon his eyes fell upon Parmenion and his son Philotas. He tried not to let his emotions and feelings get the better of him and then he began to address the assembly of men.

"I would like to think," Alexander started slowly. "That every one of my men would be loyal to me, and I am sure that that is true… for the most of you."

These words from their king brought worried and troubled gasps from the many soldiers in the room. Some would exchange confused glances with their comrades, whilst others would simply stay quiet and just keep to themselves.

Once he was certain that the men had collected themselves and were listening to him again, Alexander carried on with his troubling speech. "I have become aware of some people. Two people, to be precise. And it is them who are conspiring against me and indeed all of Macedonia and who seek to overthrow me as king." He began to pace around the front of the tent. Hephaestion glared at him angrily and silently pleaded for him to be quiet and to stop doing what he was doing. However, with great difficulty, Alexander managed to evade his friend's glowers and he continued, regardless. "You know who you are," he said defiantly to the assembly of men. "I am giving you the opportunity to stand up and let yourself and your treason be known. To let your comrades be aware of the sickening acts you wish to commit against your king."

No one came forward and Alexander sighed. He had not wanted to cause any harm to the apparent conspirators, but he knew that he should be true to his word. So, he nodded to his bodyguards and the two strong men went over to Parmenion and his son and put their arms forcefully behind their backs. Alexander knew that he would not need that much manpower to restrain the two men. Philotas was only young and was not particularly powerful, and Parmenion was almost seventy; he was too old and too tired to be able to resist anything put to him.

The bodyguards, at Alexander's order, led the two men out of the tent and out into the open. "The rest of you will stay here," Alexander barked the command angrily to his soldiers. For, he did not think it was necessary for all of his men to witness Parmenion and Philotas' punishment. He then nodded to Perdiccas, Cassander and Callisthenes to follow him, and Hephaestion just went on instinct.

The day previously, two stakes had been placed in the ground. They were thick pieces of wood, which had been cut down from the two strongest and oldest of the trees in the nearby forest. There was rope hanging down from the two stakes.

The two bodyguards, chosen personally by Alexander himself, led Parmenion and Philotas over to the stakes. When he saw the stakes, Philotas yelped loudly. He began to squirm in the powerful arms of the bodyguard and he tried desperately to escape the man's steadfast grasp. He looked around the area in desperation and his eyes soon fell upon Cassander. Cassander had become his closest friend, during their expedition with Alexander, as they were of a quite similar age. Philotas had helped Cassander to try and fit in with the rest of the army and they had grown to be very close over the period of four years of the Persian campaign.

Parmenion and Philotas were stripped of their clothes, leaving only the waistcloths around their hips.

Cassander's eyes met Philotas and he shook his head. His eyes were filled with salty tears and he had to wipe them away. "Sire!" Cassander called out to Alexander as he watched his great friend being tied to the stake. "Please, Alexander!" He called out in desperation. "Please!"

Alexander ignored his pleas. Parmenion was silent and was staring at his son with eyes that looked so very worried that it would be impossible to describe. He, too, was being fastened to the other stake. Alexander nodded to the two bodyguards and they left Philotas and his father on the stakes. Then, he ordered the bodyguards to carry out the next part of the task. They went into the armoury and then came out promptly, each carrying a long, sturdy spear with him. Then they went to go and stand beside Alexander.

Hephaestion ran over to Alexander. "Please, Alexander!" He yelled at him, his voice starting to crack. He took his king's hands and held them tightly. "Please, don't do this!" He yelled at him again.

Alexander tried to get Hephaestion away from him, but he suddenly felt as though all of his once mighty strength had been drained from him.

Cassander fought his way over to the king. "You cur!" He screamed at him. "You can't do this! Philotas is my friend! Please!"

Parmenion was silent. He was standing, leaning against the stake, with his arms tied painfully behind the stake, just like Philotas was. He glanced at his son and Philotas returned his gaze. "Do not be afraid, my child," the old man said, not wanting his son to die terrified and upset. "Be brave. You will be in the Elysian Fields soon. Do not be scared."

Philotas was in tears. He wanted desperately to be strong and to be a man, but he was not able to. His mind was clouded with worry and anxiety. He stared at Cassander and at Alexander.

"Please, Alexander," Hephaestion said, his voice dropping significantly. "Parmenion was your father's general, and now he is yours. He serves with you, not against you. Please…" He held Alexander's chin firmly, forcing their eyes to meet. Alexander could see every detail of Hephaestion's faith. His eyes were weary and red and tears were going to come.

Alexander pushed Hephaestion away from him and he was about to give the final order to the two bodyguards when Cassander rushed over to him, after breaking free from Perdiccas' restraining hold, and he faced Alexander. Cassander threw a punch at the king, but Alexander blocked it. He was older than Cassander and he was much stronger, and Cassander knew that. Nevertheless, Cassander would not be deterred. "Would you not want to protect Hephaestion?" Cassander shouted at him angrily.

Alexander looked at the floor, not wanting to face Cassander's determined anger. "Cassander, I will have you shamed for your insolence," he said, trying to sound strong and authoritative, but his tone was slipping and he knew it was.

"I don't care!" Cassander yelled as Perdiccas, once again, tried to restrain him. "You can do what you wish with me. Please, do not harm Philotas!"

Hephaestion collected his thoughts and tried to speak with Alexander in the hope of bringing him back into a world of rationality. "Philotas is young, Alexander. He has so much of his life yet to live. He has yet to marry and have children of his own, as do you," he said softly, holding the king at arm's length. "Parmenion is an old man; he does not deserve to die in this gruesome way. This is a death for traitors, not for loyal men."

Alexander held back the hot, burning tears that were quickly building up behind his eyes and he managed to shove Hephaestion off of him. He quickly raised his right arm and the bodyguards poised their spears. Alexander then rapidly brought his arm down and the two guards thrust their spears into the lower torso of the father and son.

Parmenion's heart had given out at the instant when the sarissa had hit, but Philotas had not been so lucky. His death was slower and more painful. He glanced down and yelled out in pain when he caught sight of the clotted gore that was slowly seeping out of his shapely torso. He winced and stared at Alexander, with the light slowly emptying out of his eyes. His head promptly went limp and his world went black.

Cassander ran into the tents and cried deafeningly. Perdiccas rushed after him, and Callisthenes quickly followed. Hephaestion was about to join them, but Alexander put his hand on his arm and said softly, "Hephaestion… I…"

"No, Alexander. You've gone too far this time," he said to him warningly. "That was the wrong decision." Hephaestion then released himself from the weak grip of the king and then stormed back into his personal tent.

Alexander ordered the two bodyguards to remove the impaled bodies from the stakes and they promptly did so, before Alexander demanded a funeral take place in the honour of Parmenion and Philotas.

Sleep did not come for Alexander that night. He had lain awake in his bed for hours. He was staring around the room and cursing himself for what he had done to Parmenion and Philotas. However, he was not able to feel completely and utterly guilty for that act. For, he, in his mind, had eradicated two potentially powerful traitors from his court. And yet, he could not find any sort of peace of mind.

Finally, after realising that it was very doubtful that he was going to be able to get to sleep anytime soon, he got out of bed. He walked out of royal tent and travelled the short distance to Hephaestion's tent. He soon got there and called out, "Hephaestion?" He got no response, which is what he had been expecting anyway.

"I don't want to talk to you, Alexander," his friend called back to him. Hephaestion, too, could not seem to get to sleep. "You speak of wanting to be a hero, and yet all you want is power. You are dangerous, Alexander."

Alexander, however, ignored his wishes and proceeded to walk into the tent. He went over to Hephaestion, who was lying awake on the bed. Alexander shook his head. "Every time I close my eyes, Hephaestion," he said quietly. "All I see is Philotas' and Parmenion's faces at the time of their deaths."

"You cannot be surprised," Hephaestion said, scoffing. He sat up in the bed and stared at his friend. "No one made you carry out that act. You chose to. It is your fault."

"I know that, Hephaestion," he said, bowing his head in shame and sadness. "You have every right to call me a bastard and such like. I deserve it." He sat down beside his friend, which made Hephaestion a little uncomfortable.

"That is no apology," Hephaestion said gravelly. "You owe it to their families to at least show some repentance for your actions."

"Do I not appear to be showing guilt to you?" Alexander yelled at him, suddenly being unable to control his anger.

Hephaestion shrugged, about to turn away from Alexander and try to sleep again. "Maybe it is too late for that," he said advisedly. "You have to stop believing in these ridiculous omens!"

Alexander was about to talk, but Hephaestion stopped him promptly. "No, Alexander," he said defiantly. "They will bring you nothing but misery and loneliness. Remember Achilles?" He asked, as he glared at him. "Do you think Patroclus would have approved of the way Achilles treated Hector?" Hephaestion asked him.

Alexander shook his head solemnly, the blonde curls swaying, and the light in his eyes seemed to fade away.

"Then you know what killing does to a man, do you not? He will go mad. All judgement on his part will cease to exist and all he feels will be sorrow and anguish," Hephaestion warned him.

"I'm sorry, Hephaestion," Alexander said, now being incapable of holding back the flood of tears that was sure to come.

"Please, Alexander," Hephaestion said softly. "Do not end up like those so called heroes. You have nothing to prove, least of all to me. You are already Achilles in my eyes."


	22. The death of the Great King

CHAPTER 21: 330BC: THE DEATH OF THE GREAT KING 2348

Going as fast as his young legs would carry him, the messenger sprinted at full speed towards the camp of the Macedonian army. He shielded his dark eyes from the glare of the high and strong morning sun with his hand and finally came to a stop. He hovered where he was and looked around the camp for what could possibly be the king's tent. He continued to search around the immediate area and decided to go in the direction of the largest tent. He went over to the tent and cautiously said to the guard, "I have a message for King Alexander."

The guard studied the adolescent dubiously and then he nodded slowly.

The messenger hesitated to start off with and then he went inside the tent. "King Alexander?" He called out, trying hard to keep the nervousness from out of his tone of voice. "Lord Ampelius has sent me. There is news from Bactria." He still got no response, so he decided he should try and look for the king. So, he searched around the tent, but he had no luck. So, he left the tent and said to the guard, "Alexander is not here."

The guard frowned heavily and was quiet and then he took a small step back into his original, assigned position.

The young messenger then quickly said, "However, I could go and look for him. He may be in another tent."

The guard nodded slowly, after scrutinising the adolescent messenger. He had been the guard that was responsible for executing Philotas only the day before this one, so he knew that Alexander was in quite a fragile state of mind. Therefore, he promptly decided against raising the alarm because he did not want to disturb his king.

The messenger then left the guard and went into the tent that was next to Alexander's. He cautiously stepped in through the entrance and instantly felt his cheeks go red with embarrassment when he noticed the king sleeping peacefully alongside Hephaestion. He was just about to leave when Alexander woke up and said, "Who are you?"

The messenger stopped his attempt at leaving the tent and went over to the king. "I am sorry, sire, for… intruding. But, I have an urgent message from Lord Ampelius."

"Ampelius?" Alexander repeated, being more or less completely mystified at the sound of that name.

The young man nodded. "Yes, sire, Ampelius."

"What does he want?" Alexander asked. He looked over at Hephaestion, who he knew was awake but had his eyes closed.

"He has urgent news from Bactria," the messenger replied to him.

"What is it?" Alexander asked.

The messenger replied, "King Darius is dead."

"What?" Alexander said, in shock.

Hephaestion decided that he could no longer realistically ignore this amount of noise, so he sat up and when he saw that there was a messenger looking at him, he leapt up out of the bed.

"He is dead, sire," the messenger replied. "A Macedonian tradesman found his body."

"Who killed him?" Alexander asked, feeling the annoyance start to chew away at him.

The messenger was quiet for a short moment, trying to remember what the names of the killers were.

Alexander was furious. "Who?!" He demanded from him.

The messenger was scared and took a little step back.

"Alexander," Hephaestion said to his king warningly. "The boy has travelled far, be patient with him."

Reluctantly, Alexander managed to calm down.

The messenger then gathered his thoughts successfully and replied to Alexander, "They are saying that his name is Bessus, although there were obviously more perpetrators."

"Bessus…" Alexander echoed the young messenger and ordered the man to leave, which he swiftly did.

"What are you thinking, Alexander?" Hephaestion asked his king slowly, sounding worried.

"How dare that man claim the life of Darius?!" Alexander yelled, no longer being capable of containing his own anger. "I wanted him alive!"

"He is a satrap," Hephaestion said, referring to Bessus. "I doubt he had your wishes in mind when he went about killing Darius."

"If I can't kill Darius," Alexander said, his face twisting into a sneer. "Then, I shall kill Bessus."

"No, Alexander," Hephaestion said forebodingly. "Have you not listened to anything I have said? This will be your end, Alexander. You have shown remorse for killing Parmenion and Philotas," he said and looked at his king, whose facial expression suddenly changed into one of sadness and deep guilt when the names of the now dead father and son were mentioned. "Please, don't do the same to Bessus."

"Why not?" Alexander asked him, in a questioning tone of voice. "I need revenge; he killed Darius. That was my kill, Hephaestion! And, he took it from me."

"You sound like an animal, Alexander," Hephaestion said, trying to talk some sense into his king. "Bessus is a Persian. Why is he worth your sanity?"

Alexander glanced down at his hands as they lay motionless in his lap. He could almost feel the blood on his hands from Parmenion and Philotas. However, he managed to blank that image from his mind and he looked helplessly at Hephaestion.

Hephaestion, however, was not having any of it. "I have cared for you, Alexander," he reminded him. "I have not turned my back on you, no matter what. I have comforted you. For Zeus' sake, Alexander, I have even shared my bed with you!" Even saying those words made Hephaestion feel ill inside. He realised that he was somehow ashamed with himself.

Alexander was deeply hurt by Hephaestion's last remark and he slowly shrunk back before changing his mind and he got out of the bed and stormed back to his own tent.

Once he was sure that Alexander had left, Hephaestion sat back down on the bed and held his head in his hands. He sighed bitterly and heavily.

A few hours had passed since Alexander and Hephaestion's argument and the young messenger had given them the news of Darius' death. Now, Alexander had found some time to brief his most senior of commanders and he and them were to travel to Bactria and find Darius' body.

"Do we know where Darius is?" Perdiccas asked his king as he and some of the other members of the revered Companion cavalry walked with Alexander in the direction of the temporary stables.

Alexander turned to face him and he had to slow his pace, as he had been walking quite a bit in front of his men. "The messenger said it was in Bactria," he replied to Perdiccas.

Perdiccas frowned and then jogged over to the king. "Bactria?" He mused aloud. "I wonder what Darius could have been doing there."

Alexander looked at him and just simply shrugged. "We will never know," he said, in a rather nonchalant tone. Truth be told, he wanted Hephaestion to be with him, but Hephaestion did not want to come with him, which was actually more than understandable, considering the circumstances. Alexander had decided to ask Hephaestion if he would accompany him on the little expedition to visit the body of Darius, but Hephaestion had declined his offer with an icily cold tone. Alexander now realised that he felt more upset than he felt angry. He missed Hephaestion, and he knew that he only had himself to blame for their current estrangement from each other.

They then promptly came to the stables and they all sorted out their horses and quickly mounted. Alexander was the last to mount his horse. For, he was secretly hoping that Hephaestion would come walking into the stables and would their friendship would once again be able to resume its almost natural course. However, after waiting for quite a long time, he was struck with the saddening realisation that his friend was not going to come. And so, knowing that, Alexander studied Bucephalus for a short while, checking to see that the horse's coat was as stunning and glossy as it usually was and, when he was finally satisfied, he leapt onto the back of the stallion. He patted Bucephalus on the back and whispered into his ear softly, "I don't need Hephaestion, do I? I've got you." But, Alexander was not entirely satisfied that that was how he truly felt.

He held his breath and then gave the order for his men to make their way out of the stables. The ten horses and the ten men came out of the stables and the horses began to travel in a sort of trot. Alexander lagged behind and stared back out towards the camp. He could see Hephaestion in the distance, who was standing in front of a tent and trying hard not to look his king in the eye. Alexander managed to let himself ignore his friend and he and his men dug their heels fast into their horse's flanks and they began a quick and steady gallop.

The journey to Bactria was certainly not all that long. They had travelled on their horses, in an almost continuous gallop, with the odd canter at times, for hours on end. And when those hours came closer to actually being an entire day, they would finally rest. However, they would not rest that long. Alexander was very eager to do anything to put his thoughts and feelings about Hephaestion towards the back of his mind, and so, he decided that they should not rest for an extended period of time. He knew that he realistically needed to stay active in order to keep his mind preoccupied on other things.

"I think we may be here," Perdiccas said to his king as he slowed his horse to a mere canter.

Alexander stared blankly at him for a brief moment. "I think we are," he replied as he stared at the massive crowd of people which was amassing steadily around some sort of object of apparent interest. That object, no doubt, was the body of Darius, the former king of Persia and all of its once mighty empire. Alexander and Perdiccas then led the rest of the soldiers towards the gradually growing crowd of people.

"Who is in charge here?" Alexander asked loudly and authoritatively.

No one turned to answer him. They all seemed to be too frightened of the young Macedonian king. Most of the people in the crowd were men, but there were a few woman there too. There were also some children. Alexander gathered quickly that all of these people were some of the poorest people of the region. He wanted to help them, but he knew he realistically couldn't.

When he realised that there was not a very big possibility of someone answering his question, he leapt off of Bucephalus' back and Perdiccas and Callisthenes gave him a warning look, but he just ignored their glares. Cassander nodded, as if to say that he wanted very much for Alexander to go down alone and armed with only a small dagger on his belt, to be surrounded by these enemy plebeians. He wanted to get revenge on Alexander, for he had been responsible for killing Philotas, not the bodyguard who had actually been the one to throw the sarissa at his close friend. Besides, the bodyguard was definitely far too strong for Cassander to face, and he knew that. Whereas, on the other hand, Alexander, although he was still a very powerful and fit man, was presently preoccupied with the matter to do with Hephaestion and had become almost actually weak.

Alexander proceeded to walk through the crowd. People were quickly massing around him. They were groping at his clothes, hoping to touch him, as though he were actually a god himself. A few women were trying to walk over to him, fighting their way through the dense crowd of people. They were admiring Alexander's godlike beauty. He looked so strange to them, as he had light-coloured eyes, blonde curly hair and was, although in absolute peak physical condition, quite short for someone his age and was paler than was considered to be normal for Greeks and Macedonians. The Persians, on the other hand, were tall and slim, with dark bronze skin and dark eyes and hair. His appearance startled a few of the children, who tried to hide behind their mother's long, flowing dresses.

He fought his way through the people and finally came to where the object which the people were building up around. He saw instantly that it was a chariot. He signalled for his companions to follow him and they all dismounted and tried to get through the crowd. They finally reached him and stood by his side. Alexander saw that there was a body in the chariot. The person had obviously been dead for at least a week. The limbs had started to go hard and stiff and there was an unbelievable stench rising slowly but surely from the corpse. Alexander had never actually seen Darius up close, and so, he could not be sure that this really was the body of the great king.

Callisthenes, stood beside his king asked him, "This is Darius, is it not?"

Alexander turned to face him. "I believe so."

"Should we take the body back to camp?" He asked Alexander.

The king shook his head firmly, after a moment's deliberation. He called over three of his companions, Diokles, son of Demostrate, Eutropius, son of Herodes and the only soldier who was younger than Cassander, albeit only by a few months, the nineteen year old son of Kallikrates, called Lysander. The three men went over to him respectfully.

"You are to take the body back to Persia, and inform his family," Alexander ordered the three soldiers. As he said these words, he knew that there would be confused talk amongst his men, but he did not care. Instead, he removed the signet ring from the left hand of Darius and then covered the body with his own chlamys.

He then told the six of his men to mount their horses, which they did and he did too and they rode back to the camp. As he rode back to the camp, Alexander found that he was faced with a mixture of different feelings. He was glad, in a way, that Darius was dead, because it meant that he was no the official King of Persia. On the other hand, he was frustrated because he had wanted Darius to be alive, so that he could be the one to kill him the Great King.


	23. Bessus' end

CHAPTER 22: 329BC: BESSUS' END 3316

Cassander laughed and tried to cheer up Hephaestion, who was still feeling quite understandably upset because of the recent situation with Alexander. "I had always wondered who would be king of Persia after Darius had finally paid his long-wanted visit to the Halls of Hades."

Hephaestion hesitated and then finally took a sip of his wine. "I would have expected it to be his son."

"So would I, but he is only young, isn't he?" Cassander asked as he finished off his second glass of wine.

"He was five, or something similar, when we met him after Issus, so I would presume he would be around nine or ten by now," Cassander said, as he tried to search his mind for a better response to give Cassander.

Cassander nodded slowly. "That is definitely too old," he said, with a slight smile on his face. "His daughters cannot take the throne," he then added to his thoughts.

Nodding, Hephaestion replied, "No, I suppose not."

"Maybe Alexander will make a claim to the throne," Cassander then offered to Hephaestion. "His claim would be very strong, considering the numerous defeats against Darius that he…" he then changed his mind and decided that he should rephrase the last section of what he had just said. "We have had."

"Maybe," Hephaestion muttered. "Although, I have heard that a man going by the name of Antaxerxes is currently in charge of all of Persia and its empire," he added.

"Antaxerxes?" Cassander repeated thoughtfully. "I've never heard of him."

"He is a Persian satrap," Hephaestion said.

Cassander nodded in response and then thought briefly. "I remember," he said in realisation. "He has proclaimed himself to be King of Kings of Persia, I think," he said to Hephaestion.

Hephaestion agreed and he then nodded his head slowly. "That is what I have heard too," he said, in concurrence with Cassander's words.

Alexander walked into the recreational tent of the Macedonian camp and he instantly noticed Hephaestion. He was about to leave when he observed that Perdiccas was gesturing for him to go over, so that was what he did. Alexander went over to Perdiccas and sat down alongside him. What annoyed and irritated Hephaestion so very greatly was the fact that Alexander was now also sat next to Craterus. He could see, even from his distance that the old man was drunk and Alexander would soon be drunk as well.

Cassander quickly realised that Hephaestion was beginning to get quite angry, so he decided that it would probably be a good idea if he got Hephaestion to think about something else other than Alexander. "Have another drink, Hephaestion," he said.

Hephaestion turned his head back to face Cassander and he decided he should listen to the younger man's advice. There was no point in him constantly going over and over in his mind about what had happened between him and Alexander.

On the other side of the room, Alexander was drinking with Perdiccas and Craterus. He had already consumed at least four glasses of wine, and if not, probably more. He glanced to the left and saw that Craterus was suddenly very close to him. He tried to push the man away from him and he turned his back on him and faced Perdiccas.

Perdiccas smirked thinly at what was happening between Craterus and his king.

"You are a very loyal man, Perdiccas," Alexander said, and his words began to slur as the wine slowly started to take its toll on his system.

The man frowned slightly and then he smiled weakly. "Thank you, sire," he said quietly. "Just, do not drink too much wine. It will play havoc with your insides," he said warningly.

Craterus handed over more wine to Alexander and the young king took it gratefully, drinking it all in one gulp. Craterus then forced himself upon Alexander and he fought to get their lips to touch. At first, Alexander tried to resist, but he quickly gave in and returned the kiss.

Hephaestion could actually hear the quiet struggle and Cassander sighed heavily and deeply. Hephaestion felt the anger start to well up inside of him and he instantly wanted to hurt something. He wanted to hurt Alexander the way that he had hurt him. He was about to go over to the king, but Cassander stopped him and he held him back with a surprisingly and unexpectedly steadfast grasp.

Craterus said to Alexander, his words also slurred, "Does this not feel better than the lips of that bastard, Hephaestion?"

Alexander was almost too intoxicated to register those words, but then he realised what Craterus was saying. He managed to escape the man's grasp and he shouted at him furiously, "You wretch! You will not speak of him in such a manner!"

"Why should I not?" Craterus argued with him. "Do you love him? What a fool you are." He shook his head bitterly.

"I should have you shamed for that act, Craterus!" Alexander yelled at him angrily.

"What? Shamed more than you have been by sleeping with him!" Craterus leered, pointing to Hephaestion, who reddened. "Boys will be boys. But, you are not a boy anymore, Alexander! You should have an heir. Since when has laying with a man brought such things? Marry, for Zeus' sake. Cast that Hephaestion aside."

Alexander raised his arm and his fist came crashing down squarely into Craterus' unattractive face. As a result, the man was left with a bleeding nose and a spinning head.

Hephaestion went over to Alexander, who was promptly hit by Craterus in return. Alexander fell to his knees and was too drunk and too injured to get to his feet. Hephaestion, almost actually forgetting their differences, helped him up to his feet.

"Hephaestion?" Alexander said unsurely as his eyes managed to focus on the handsome face of his friend.

Hephaestion nodded and held Alexander steady.

Craterus didn't say anymore. Instead, he just simply went back to his seat and then Perdiccas left him, as he was feeling too ashamed of his behaviour to even want to sit next to him. He helped Hephaestion to carry Alexander out of the tent and then he left the two alone, sensing that it was the right thing to do.

"Thank you," Alexander said to Hephaestion, in an almost whispering tone of voice. "I am sorry. Really, I am."

"You do not need to apologise," he said softly. "I had expected you to agree with Craterus' remark."

"I would never speak of you in such a way," Alexander said defiantly. "I promise you, Hephaestion, Craterus will be dealt with. I will see to that personally."

Hephaestion, however, did not agree. He shook his head in disagreement and said, "No, Alexander, don't. It is not important."

Alexander frowned, being confused by his response. "Why?"

"Just, don't do it, Alexander," Hephaestion said quietly. "Please, don't."

Alexander nodded. "I won't," he said softly. "You have my word." He pulled Hephaestion into an embrace and held his head, stroking his dark hair.

"You will get a bruise on your nose," Hephaestion muttered as he smelt the scent of Alexander's hair against his cheek.

Alexander reached up to touch his nose and it smarted right from the initial time of contact. He winced in pain and pulled a face.

"It will heal though," Hephaestion said softly.

Alexander was sitting in his tent, thinking about the events of the day. He could not stop thinking about what Craterus had said about Hephaestion. He looked over at his friend, who was sat at a table, writing a letter to his father. "Are you sure you do not want me to have Craterus punished?" Alexander asked him, hoping secretly that the answer would be a 'yes'.

Hephaestion turned away from the table and put the quill down on top of the parchment. He studied Alexander briefly and then replied, "I am certain, Alexander." He then went back to writing his letter.

Alexander nodded his head slowly and then he sighed, feeling a little annoyed and frustrated with Hephaestion's answer. However, not wanting to aggravate another situation between them, he did not say any more about Craterus and his rude remark, and he stayed quiet for a little while longer. "We have to find that Bessus," Alexander said, after a moment of silence.

Hephaestion, once again, turned away from the table and put his quill down. "In time, yes. But, not now," he said, in the hope that he could persuade Alexander to do otherwise.

The king frowned and said, "We are not busy, so why not find him now?" Alexander looked at his friend.

Hephaestion raised an eyebrow slightly. "What are you going to do with him?" He asked, trying to think about what the answer would be. Regardless of what the answer was going to be, Hephaestion knew that he probably would not like it very much.

"I have not yet decided," Alexander replied to him, with a grim expression on his face. He stood up and stretched. "We will leave now. Are you finished?"

Hephaestion closed off his letter and then said, gesturing to the parchment in front of him, "I will leave it here. A messenger can deliver the letter later." He then left his desk and went over to Alexander. "Should I tell the men?" He asked.

Alexander hesitated for a short moment. "Yes, but I don't need that many to accompany me. You, of course, will come. That is," he paused to look at his friend. "If you would like to."

Hephaestion nodded. "Why would I not?" He asked, smiling at him.

"Tell Perdiccas, Cassander… although I doubt he will want to be anywhere near me, after the events with Philotas," Alexander said as he fell silent.

"Try not to think about it too much," Hephaestion said, putting on a weak smile. "Is that it?" He asked, thinking that that would not nearly be enough men for the task.

Alexander shook his head slowly. "No," he replied. "Tell Callisthenes, Coenus, Ptolemy, Antigonus, Cleitus, Leonnatus, and Neoptolemus that they are to come too. But, not Craterus."

Hephaestion nodded agreeably and then went to tell the men about their forthcoming expedition to Bactria."

"It is a little annoying," Perdiccas said as he rode his horse at full canter, along with the rest of the accompaniment.

Callisthenes looked over at him and cocked his head to one side. "Why do you say that?" He asked him curiously.

Perdiccas altered his grip on the reigns of his stallion and then replied, "We just came to Bactria the day before, and now, we are going again!"

Callisthenes looked at him and smiled thinly. "It is exercise, I suppose," he muttered quietly.

Perdicass had heard him say this, as Callisthenes had not said it as quietly as he had thought he had, and he simply raised a slight eyebrow and smiled, amused.

At the head of the entourage, was Alexander, as was customary. However, he was not situated at the exact front of the procession; Hephaestion, on Ganymede, was travelling at his side.

"I am sorry, Hephaestion," Alexander said quietly to his friend, in the hope that no one else but Hephaestion would be able to hear his heartfelt apology.

Hephaestion slowed the speed of his horse into a moderate canter and he turned his head to face the king. "I forgive you," he said to Alexander. "There is no need for you to keep apologising," he then added.

Alexander nodded his head slowly and then managed to paste a slight smile onto his lips. He then ordered his men to pick up the speed of their horses, and with a whinny and a neigh, the stallions reared onto their powerful hind legs and galloped through the desert-like ground of Bactria. At last, they arrived at the place where the body of Darius had been discovered by the rather shocked Macedonian merchant, lying almost naked and without honour in the back of his once glorious and golden chariot.

Alexander dismounted his horse and he quickly caught sight of a group of Persian soldiers. They all had light-coloured scarfs wrapped around their heads and when Alexander had walked over a little closer to them, he noticed that charcoal must have been smeared around their eyes. He and Hephaestion exchanged slightly bemused and perplexed looks.

"You are Alexander?" The man whom Alexander and the rest of his entourage deemed to be the person in charge of the group of Persian people.

Alexander nodded and took a slight step forward. "I am Alexander of Macedonia," he replied, trying to sound authoritative to them.

The Persian seemed to stare at him for an almost inordinately long amount of time, as if he were scrutinizing and judging him. The appearance of the Macedonian king and his men slightly startled the group of Persians, for they had rarely ever seen people with pale bronze skin, blonde hair and light-coloured eyes. That is, unless they had blood splattered and sprayed all over their bodies and their limbs were hanging on by only the slightest threads of sinew and muscle. The Persian man then changed his line of sight and looked at Hephaestion, who was standing very close to Alexander. He raised a slim, black eyebrow and then got down to the matter at hand. "The Great King Darius," he began solemnly.

Hearing these words, Perdiccas muttered derisively to Callisthenes, "Great."

Callisthenes looked at him and chuckled quietly.

The Persian soldier threw them a terrifying glare, and the two Macedonians quickly were silenced. He then focused back on Alexander. "Darius has been killed, I am sure you know that?"

Alexander looked at him, staring confusedly at the man's tangled beard. "Yes," he said, after Hephaestion gave him a small nudge.

"His killer is here," he said.

Alexander felt the anger inside of him start to slowly come alive, as if it were coming to the point of boiling. "He is?" He asked, through tightly clenched teeth.

"Yes," he said, nodding. He then gave a signal to his men and they stepped away, and, behind them, a man was lying slumped over a rock.

The corpse had once been the body of a very handsome man, and Alexander could instantly see that he was a Persian. His hair was brushed over his face, but his eyes were open, staring eerily out at the bright blue, cloudless sky. His limbs were floppy and Hephaestion realised that he was not breathing. Deep cuts and gashes covered his body. The Persian turned the body over with a kick of his foot and Alexander noticed the red stripes on his back which were symbolic of aggressive flagellation.

The man's face was encrusted with blood and gore, where swords had been taken to his ears and nose, both of which had been severed violently. The light was no longer behind his eyes and blood was leisurely seeping out of the corners of his mouth, making his once white teeth yellow and rotten.

Alexander grimaced as he saw the excessive cuts and blows which the man had obviously endured. There were odd looking pits and dents in the man's chest, where blows had been inflicted. Some of the bones in his torso had become dislodged and one of the ribs was protruding. Alexander went over to the body and bent down beside it, staring into the man's unyielding eyes. "This is Bessus?" He asked the Persian.

The Persian nodded grimly. "It was," he replied, grinning widely. "Now, it is a meal for the birds."

Alexander got back onto his feet and went back over to Hephaestion. He was about to get back on his horse, when the Persian asked him, "What do you want us to do with the body? I have heard that you are of a magnanimous heart. Do you request a burial?"

Alexander shook his head slowly. "No," he said firmly. "Leave him." He then leapt onto Bucephalus' back and he and his men left the Persians to deal with the rotting corpse of Darius' killer.

When they had returned to the camp, the Macedonian soldiers stripped off their armour and went into the recreational tent, with the exception of Alexander, who retreated into his own personal royal tent. Hephaestion followed him, as it was almost becoming more or less second nature for him to do so.

"Was there something you wanted, Hephaestion?" Alexander asked his friend when he had noticed him entering his tent.

Hephaestion went over to him. "Why did you not treat Bessus with respect?" He asked, trying to still sound respectful to his king.

"Is there a reason why I should have?" Alexander questioned him. "He and his henchmen slaughtered Darius in a brutal attack, and left him for dead. Why do I owe him respect?"

Hephaestion shrunk back a little. "I am worried for you, Alexander," he said. "You are acting… differently, to how I think you would do. If these events had transpired only a few years earlier, I am certain you would have given Bessus a splendid funeral, or, if he was still alive, have given him respect."

"Yes, that's as maybe, Hephaestion," Alexander replied quietly. "But this is happening now, not in the past. I have no respect for traitors and cowards, surely you know that?"

Hephaestion took a tentative step forward and put his hand on Alexander's arm. "Of course I do," he said softly. "I just don't want to lose you."

"You will never lose me, Hephaestion," Alexander said gently. He brushed Hephaestion's hair away from his sapphire eyes and smiled at him. "I promise. No matter what happens. You will never lose me."

Hephaestion smiled weakly and nodded. "I hope that is true," he said.

"It is," Alexander replied. He embraced his friend and then said, "Have you sent that letter to your father?"

"Not yet," Hephaestion said. "I had forgotten." He felt a little ashamed with himself. "I should go and give it to the messenger now." He then pulled out of the embrace and went over to his desk and went to find the messenger.

Alexander hesitated briefly, considering everything which he had on his mind and then he went into the bathhouse. He ordered the servants, of which they had brought quite a few on their expedition, so that there was someone to care for the animals and such, to make him a bath. They agreed and the five of them quickly proceeded down to the nearby river and came back carrying heavy pales of water. They then heated the water over the fire and poured the hot water into the large tub.

Once the servants had left him, Alexander stripped off his clothes and set them down beside the bath. He then got into the tub and sank back in it. He lay there for a long time, in a state of deep thought. He wet his hair and washed it.

Staring down at his bronzed and athletic body, he noticed how many wounds he had achieved as a result of battle. There were callouses on his feet due to all the walking he had done. On his hands, there were tiny burn marks as a result of holding onto Bucephalus' reigns. The injury on his shoulder from Gaza was still very much visible. His left thigh was stinging due to a slash with a Persian sword. His neck hurt from other attacks and red circles from blows and punches were visible too. The red mark, which he had sustained during his encounter with Craterus the day earlier, on his nose was still very much noticeable. He reached down to touch the wound on his shoulder and winced when he found that it still caused him some pain.

Some amount of time later, he drifted off to sleep and he forgot about the aches and pains and cuts and scars which marked his toned physique. He awoke after an hour or so and quickly dried himself, before putting on a fresh tunic. He then retired to his tent, where he was actually surprised to find that Hephaestion was sleeping soundly; he lay down in the bed beside him and continued his slumber there.


	24. The death of Cleitus

CHAPTER 23: 328BC: THE DEATH OF CLEITUS 1945

The banquet was indeed a very splendid one, but it was also fitting to the occasion. Alexander had made sure that no exceptions were made. Only the finest of food was lain on the tables, as was the high quality wine. As a result of all the wine which was freely and readily available to them, many of the men present at the banquet were now already quite drunk, and Alexander had already drunk has second glass of wine.

"Artabazus has resigned his satrapy of Bactria," Alexander made the announcement to his men as they met a year later in the satrapial palace at Maracanda, having left their previous makeshift camp.

His men clamoured amongst themselves. Some were arguing quietly with one another, as they were attempting to see who could possibly be fit for the occupation of taking up the satrapy that Artabazus had just recently given up. However, on the other hand, some of the men were choosing to remain silent and were actually indeed listening intently in order so that they could know what their king was about to say.

Once he was absolutely certain that he had gotten the full and complete attention of everyone in the tent, Alexander then decided to continue with his speech. "It is now my responsibility, as Bactria is within my jurisdiction, to assign a new satrap for Bactria." He then proceeded to look around the room and studied the expectant and hopeful of his men. "After having considered all of your histories and recommendations," he stated as he looked around the room. "I have made my decision."

Sat beside him, Hephaestion was expecting Alexander to call his name. He was hoping Alexander didn't call out his name. Bactria was very far away from where Alexander was planning to take the army next.

"Cleitus, son of Dropides," Alexander announced loudly and proudly. "You are to have the satrapy of Bactria," he finished off his sentence.

Cleitus was certainly not expecting his name to have been said by the king and his confusion and annoyance was heightened when an almighty quarrel quickly broke out amongst the men at the banquet. Insults were being hurled, as were opinions and food. Some of the men had even actually gone as far as to draw their swords from the safety of their hilts and brandish them wildly.

In an attempt to try and overcome these disputes, Alexander announced in his loudest and most authoritative voice that there were to be a reorganisation of commands, specifically that Cleitus would have the task of taking sixteen-thousand of the defeated Greek mercenaries who had formerly fought for the Darius north to fight the steppe nomads in Central Asia. However, essentially no one in the banquet hall was listening and Alexander slumped back into his seat. He looked over at Hephaestion, who just shrugged.

One man, however, had heard what Alexander had said. "My king," he called out, once the shouting of the other soldiers had finally started to subside and the room got a little quieter. "I must object to your offer," he said bravely.

"Whatever for?" Alexander asked him, feeling quite confused with the man's ungrateful response.

"I will be far away from you, Alexander," Cleitus said to him loudly. "I will be a forgotten man. A man such as your mighty father would have the opportunity to do such a thing, but not someone such as yourself!" His face changed inexplicably into a hideous sneer. "You send me away to some forgotten place with a group of second-rate soldiers!?"

Alexander had had enough of his insolence. He stood up out of his chair and Hephaestion instantly tried to hold him back. However, he couldn't get his hands around the king's biceps and he resorted to trying to talk him out of it. "Alexander," he whispered nervously. "Think about what you're doing." He grabbed the king's chin and faced him, warning him, "It is the wine talking."

Alexander wrestled out of his friend's steadfast grasp. "You dare to defy your king!?" He yelled at Cleitus angrily.

Cleitus stood up and made himself known. "You are no king," he said derisively. "You have no achievements to your name!"

The temperature of the room seemed to rise and the tiny veins in Alexander's forehead started to pulsate. "I have done far more than my so called father!" He furiously called back to the other man.

Hephaestion saw the opportunity and he pulled the dagger out of Alexander's belt and threw it out of the king's reach, leaving Cassander to flounder for it as it slid across the table.

"All of your achievements are due to Philip!" Cleitus yelled as he continued to dispute Alexander's claims.

Alexander was outraged. He reached down for his dagger, but found that it was no longer there and he cursed under his breath. "Guards!" He shouted, but they shrunk back into their assigned positions, not wanting to intervene in a quarrel between their king and one of his closest and most trusted friends.

Realising that he had no weapon with him, Alexander decided to use the closest thing to him. So, he picked up an apple from his plate and threw it at Cleitus' head. Cleitus was momentarily shocked, but it had only stunned him. It only made his anger worse.

The alcohol he had consumed recently had made Alexander's condition even worse. He was no longer able to think straight and his vision was slowly but surely starting to haze over and get more and more blurred. "Hephaestion?" He asked his friend, pleadingly; desperation etched into his face. "You have a dagger, don't you?"

Hephaestion tried to wrestle the king out of the room, wrapping his hands around Alexander's arms. But Alexander was too strong and he quickly was forced to give up. "Alexander, please," he said softly. "Think. For Zeus' sake, Alexander," he said, this time speaking more firmly. "Think!"

Alexander pushed Hephaestion away from him and made for the dagger which Cassander had rather foolishly placed on the banquet table. Cassander snatched it away just before Alexander was able to get a hold of it.

In the meantime, two soldiers had had enough of Cleitus hurling insults at their king, and they dragged him out of the room.

Hephaestion, with help from Perdiccas, managed to restrain Alexander, who was still very keen on the idea of having Cleitus the Black answer for his insolence.

Nevertheless, Cleitus managed to claw his way back into the banquet hall. He noticed Hephaestion's grip on Alexander and, with his face in a twisted sneer, yelled, "Run back to Hephaestion, why don't you, Alexander? He'll keep you safe, just as he keeps you warm at night!"

Gasps and sounds of horror rang out amongst the crow of soldiers. Perdiccas shrank into his chair, and Cassander pulled an uncomfortable face. Leonnatus shook his head in dismay and Coenus bit his lip. Men were allowed to have lovers, but Alexander and Hephaestion were both too old. Cassander knew that he was one of the few in the army still permitted to be known as the eromenes, as he was just a little older than twenty. It was shameful if a man was older than that. Hephaestion shrank back and he felt his cheeks beginning to heat up. Cassander shot him a curious, yet sympathetic glance, though Hephaestion tried not to notice.

Alexander was enraged at Cleitus' remark and managed to prize a javelin out of the hands of an unsuspecting guard and, without even a moment's thought, he hurled it straight at Cleitus. The sharp, pointed tip of the javelin pierced Cleitus' chest and went right through his heart, severing all of the major blood vessels and puncturing a lung as it did so. Death was quick and painless and Cleitus dropped down onto the floor almost instantly after the impact of the spear.

The body of Cleitus was hauled out of the room and Alexander was instantly struck down with tears. Hephaestion, Cassander and Perdiccas had to use their combined strength to carry the lamenting king out of the banquet hall and into a place of privacy. They left the king in his quarters, but ordered that guards were to be kept outside the room at all times, in case Alexander did anything to endanger his own life or the lives of others.

Hephaestion didn't leave his king. He went over to him as he watched Alexander slump on the bed and sob uncontrollably. "Alexander!" He called to him, trying to gain some sort of control over him. "What in Hades were you thinking?"

Alexander didn't acknowledge his friend's pleas and he continued to cry hysterically. "Leave me, Hephaestion!" He yelled at him, with fire in his eyes and an incredibly sad look on his face.

"Alexander, please," he said to him, in a quieter and calmer tone of voice.

"Leave!" Alexander shouted at him angrily. "If you don't, you will doubtless be dead by my hand as well!" He bowed his head in shame and howled horrifically.

Hephaestion lifted Alexander's head up and brushed the hair away from his eyes. He held him sternly at arm's length and spoke to him gently, "I know you won't do that."

"How can you know that?" Alexander questioned him angrily as he stared at his friend's worried face. "How? No one is safe when they're me!" He continued his weeping. "My mother! Zeus, it is all her fault! The bitch! She has done this to me! How can you know I won't turn on you, Hephaestion How?"

"Because I trust you, Alexander," Hephaestion replied softly. "I know you will not harm me."

Alexander pulled free of Hephaestion's grip and went over to the wall, where he took a sword off the wall and prepared to impale himself. Just at the moment when the metal would have pierced his flesh, Hephaestion wrenched the weapon out of his hands and then he threw it out of the window. "For the love of Zeus, Alexander!" He cried at him. "Control yourself! Do you want to dine with Hades?"

Alexander stared at him.

"Because you will certainly not be seeing Heracles and Achilles in the Elysian Fields if you do not get a grip!" Hephaestion continued.

Alexander's rage started to slowly fade, until it had essentially gone completely, but now he was consumed with another returning emotion. He fell against Hephaestion and bawled, "I have killed him, Hephaestion! I have killed him! Why do I deserve to live?"

"Because you are the king," Hephaestion replied to him firmly. "Your men need you. Macedonia needs you." He hesitated ever so slightly and then held Alexander's head up and placed his hand on his cheek. "I need you," he said softly.

Alexander hunkered down to the ground, weeping, and Hephaestion sat down beside him.

"It is not your fault, Alexander," he said softly. "You were under two of man's greatest vices. Anger and drunkenness."

"Oh, Hephaestion," he said, in between sobs. "I have killed my friends."

Hephaestion was silent for a while, not knowing what to say. "Alexander," he said softly. When the king continued weeping, Hephaestion resorted to holding him at arm's length. "Alexander," he said more firmly, this time. "You must control yourself. For the sake of yourself and Macedonia. The people do not want a king who weeps. You must be strong."

Alexander whimpered slightly and his lip quavered.

"I know it will not be easy," Hephaestion reassured him. "But… I will help you. When I can."

Alexander seemed to agree and he slowly nodded, though his expression crumbled. His eyes were once again blinded and burnt by tears and his throat felt caught. He snivelled and controlled his breathing, to some extent. "Oh, Zeus!" He yelled angrily. "What of Lanike?"

Hephaestion frowned. He couldn't remember anyone called that. "Lanike?" He repeated, and then he remembered. "Your maid."

That wasn't how Alexander had remembered her. "Cleitus' sister," he murmured and his face dropped; so low it could have been picked up by Hades himself. "What shall I tell her? Sorry, Lanike, but I killed your brother?!" His tears and yells rolled out.

Hephaestion tried to quieten him; to comfort him, but his efforts were all in vain.

"Alexander killed your brother!" He yelled. "Is that what will be told to her? The people will hate me!"

Hephaestion, finally, found what he thought was the right moment to intervene. "People are born and people die, Alexander," he said, deciding on explaining it as simply as possible.

"Not that young," Alexander argued. "Philotas… Oh gods, he was younger than Cleitus! He was younger than you, Hephaestion!"

"We have battles, Alexander. People die in them. Horribly, most of the time. You know what battle does to people, and yet, you were not nearly this bothered when other Companions fell," Hephaestion reasoned.

"They died a noble death, Hephaestion. They fell fighting for Macedonia. For their families and their futures," Alexander said impatiently. "Cleitus died because I was drunk. It was my fault."

"He goaded you, Alexander," Hephaestion said, his tone measured. "He made you do what you did. Of course you are to blame for your actions, but none of this would ever have even arisen had Cleitus been thankful of the satrapy and just kept quiet. He had no right to insult you."

"You were not saying that before," Alexander reminded him.

"You are both to blame. You and Cleitus," Hephaestion decided. "However, Cleitus would not have died had it been that both of you behaved properly."

"Lanike…" Alexander muttered and he buried his head in his hands, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Dear Hephaestion, what do I tell her? Cleitus died speared at the end of a pike thrown by the king? Cleitus died because the king cannot hold his wine? Cleitus died because Alexander is an idiot? A cur? A bastard?" He grew more and more paranoid; more and more frantic.

Hephaestion shook him softly. "Alexander, listen to me." Alexander dropped his head in sorrow. Hephaestion lifted it up and said firmly, "Listen to me. Control yourself. Weeping over his death will not make him come back to life. The damage is already done, Alexander."

"Is it wrong to show remorse?" Alexander asked him questioningly.

Hephaestion was a little taken aback by his question. "It isn't wrong to show remorse, or regret, or guilt. It is wrong to dwell on the past. Cleitus is dead. He was dead the moment the spear left your hand. Lanike will learn to cope."

Alexander almost laughed. "Cope?" He repeated, bitterly. "How in Hades will she cope?"

Hephaestion was hurt by his answer, not least by his tone. "Alexander, accept what I am telling you. People die. You are a soldier, for Zeus' sake. You know people have to die. Cleitus was wrong to say what he said to you, though he cannot be blamed fully. Your adoption of Persian customs isn't liked by most. Even myself, I do not agree with it completely. Cleitus just opposed it a lot."

"Oh Hephaestion, the gods are doing this to spite me," Alexander moaned. "Why can they not just leave me be? I have killed Cleitus and Parmenion and Philotas. Why? Why, Hephaestion, is this happening to me?"

"The minds of men are easy to corrupt," Hephaestion uttered, almost absently. He was getting cramp from sitting on the floor for so long. "You should sleep," he suggested.

Alexander was tired, but he didn't care. All he could think of was Cleitus and the long sleep he would be having. "I can't possibly sleep, Hephaestion."

"Would you rather sit here all night?" Hephaestion jested lightly.

Alexander gave no response.

"Then, perhaps you should get some sleep. I've already made it clear that dwelling on the matter will not make it any better," he remained firm.

"What about Lanike?" Alexander whispered. "What can I possibly tell her? She will hate me."

Hephaestion's shoulder's slumped involuntarily. "The chances are that she already knows about it. Word travels quickly."

"Please, Hephaestion," Alexander asked him, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Speak to her."

"She is in Macedonia," Hephaestion reminded him. He was surprised he had forgotten. "I don't even care to think how far away that is." He stared at Alexander for a moment and then reluctantly offered, "Would you like me to go to her?"

Alexander considered it and, for a moment, he was going to agree. However, he shook his head. "No," he decided. "I need you here."

Hephaestion's face lit up. He gestured to the bed. "Get some sleep, Alexander. You need it."

Alexander looked up at him and slowly and discreetly nodded.

Hephaestion gave him a questioning look before leaving the room. It was only early and he was not tired. He decided to go and see Perdiccas and Cassander. He hadn't spoken to them since Cleitus' death. He wasn't sure how long he had spent talking to Alexander, but he gathered it must have been quite a long time. The sun was about to set, even though it was summer. He had no luck in finding Perdiccas, though he did come across Cassander, who was sitting outside.

"What has brought you out here?" Cassander asked him, not even bothering to look up as his friend came to join him.

Hephaestion shrugged and let out a sigh. He stood beside him. "He is worrying about Lanike," he said blandly, talking of Alexander.

Cassander let out a derisive snort and then he quickly apologised. "What do you think she will do?"

"I do not know, but I told him to stop dwelling on it," Hephaestion replied.

Cassander considered this for a moment and then took a sip of his wine.

"Where is Perdiccas?" Hephaestion asked him inquisitively.

Cassander shook his head and then a sly grin formed across his lips. "All this excitement must have gotten too much for his old heart."

Hephaestion frowned and laughed quietly. "He is ten years older than you," he reminded him.

"Still," Cassander maintained his pointless argument. "What is the king doing now?"

"I told him to sleep," Hephaestion said simply.

Cassander raised an eyebrow and noticed Hephaestion glaring at him, so he lowered it. "It must Olympias," he said absently?

"Olympias?" Hephaestion repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"

"She has put these ideas in his head that he's the son of Zeus and that he is indestructible. She will drive him made," Cassander reasoned.

Hephaestion nodded, but could not argue with Cassander, so he nodded and went back to his quarters. On the way there, something was tugging at his mind. So, he turned around and walked to few extra metres to Alexander's quarters. There were two strong guards stood outside the door. When Hephaestion approached the door, they blocked his way.

"The king is to see no one," one of the guards announced.

Hephaestion frowned at him and then looked over at the other guard. "Let me in. I need to speak to him."

"He will speak to no one and see no one," the other guard replied.

Hephaestion swore under his breath. "I am his friend, now let me in. Hephaestion, that is my name, now move!"

The guards were standing motionless to allow for enough time for Hephaestion to barge past them and he slammed the door shut behind him. The room was a little dark but he could just about see so that he could find his way around. "Alexander?" He said quietly.

"Yes, Hephaestion," Alexander called out.

Hephaestion frowned at the sound of his voice, strangely. "You are supposed to be asleep."

"I couldn't sleep, you know that," Alexander argued.

Hephaestion shrugged. He had tried absolutely everything to reason with this man. "I just came to see that you were all right."

Alexander stayed quiet. "You are not," he observed.

"I am fine," he said, brushing off his observation.

Alexander sat up in the bed and looked at Hephaestion, who was staring out of the window, looking around. Hephaestion finally turned to face him and revealed, "Cassander just said that you seem more and more paranoid."

"Do you believe him?" Alexander asked.

Hephaestion shook his head. "I don't know. Should I? I trust you, Alexander. I love you. But, Cassander does seem to speak the truth. Ever since Parmenion and Philotas dying, you have become distant."

Alexander was quiet again. "I am sorry."

Hephaestion pointed to the door with his thumb. "I'll go. You can rest now. There is still most of the darkness left."

"Don't leave," Alexander said abruptly. "Unless you have duties," he quietly added.

Hephaestion shook his head. He didn't have anything to do. There was some administrative work to do with Cleitus' satrapy, but that couldn't be done anymore. He hesitated before sitting on the bed. It was cold. He could feel Alexander's eyes focusing on him, so he removed his sandals and lay down beside him. They were surrounded by darkness. All his could see was Alexander's bright blue eye, but the other was as dark as the air around them. Hephaestion closed his eyes and Alexander fell asleep to the slow, methodical beat of Hephaestion's chest. He didn't want morning to come.

Alexander awoke in the middle of the night. The sky was still black as Hades and the air in the room was almost still. He could feel the cool breeze against his neck, as well as the warm breath of Hephaestion. It was silent, except for the hum of bees and a few squawking birds in the distance. He cast his gaze over to Hephaestion and watched him for a while. He felt Hephaestion shift beside him. Hephaestion opened his eyes. "You are awake?" He asked him, confused. His mind was still weary from sleep.

Alexander nodded shyly. "Something woke me up."

"Me?" Hephaestion wondered.

Alexander shook his head; as much as he could against the bed. "No. I don't know what it was." His expression was thoughtful.

Hephaestion regarded him; scrutinising his face. Then, his jaw dropped ever so slightly. "Oh, Zeus," he sighed. "You're not about to tell me you have had another vision, are you? An omen?"

Alexander thought for a moment and then whispered, "Not tonight. Something just woke me."

"It was probably that book," Hephaestion muttered.

Alexander raised an eyebrow and considered. Then, he knew what he meant. He took the Iliad from under his pillow. "I hardly see how this could affect how I sleep. I do not read it that often now. I have read it too many times."

"It may be giving you ideas," Hephaestion suggested bluntly. "You dream about being Achilles all the time, don't you?"

"Sometimes I do," Alexander replied, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Then, perhaps it's keeping your mind awake. When the sky is dark, the sun is resting. That is what men are meant to do as well," Hephaestion explained.

Alexander studied his copy of the Iliad and then put it beside the bed. "Maybe it would make sense to move my dagger," Alexander said, grinning. "That may be sending me premonitions," he mocked.

Hephaestion smiled sardonically. "Perhaps."

Alexander put the dagger on top of his Iliad.

"What if there is an intruder?" Hephaestion asked him. "You'll have no means of defence."

"I doubt that will happen, Hephaestion," Alexander replied logically. "There are armed guards outside my quarters all day and all night."

Hephaestion smiled in frustration, remembering the guards he had encountered earlier.

"There are a lot of barriers for intruders to get past to reach me," Alexander then added. "Besides, you are here. A man must have no mind to attack the king when he is in the presence of another great fighter."

Hephaestion smiled proudly. He had never been called a great fighter before. He had always gotten the impression that people viewed him as average. "What if, Alexander, someone finds out about you… and I?" He asked him, growing nervous.

"I have never thought of it, to be honest," Alexander replied. "Why should I think about it? I do not care if people know."

"What if they think differently of you?" Hephaestion pressed.

"Then they are not truly my subjects and I will deal with them appropriately. They swore an oath of loyalty. They cannot break it," Alexander said decidedly.

Hephaestion wasn't convinced, still. "They may see me as weak. Cassander, Perdiccas, Leonnatus… they may think I am only where I am in the army because of you."

"You think of favouritism?" Alexander queried, and Hephaestion nodded. "Don't worry, Hephaestion," Alexander said comfortingly. "I treat all fairly. I trust you more than I do any other man. I care for you, Hephaestion. I love you. That does not mean I am biased."

Hephaestion opened his mouth to argue, but Alexander cut in. "If someone wishes to complain or denounce their services to Macedonia, then they will face the consequences," he said warningly. "If you are worrying that I will think less of you, don't."

"I don't worry," Hephaestion replied in a small voice.

"Achilles would never have abandoned Patroclus, just because some of his men do not wish to see them together," Alexander reasoned. "This will be no different. Everyone probably knows, anyway."

Hephaestion's face dropped but he nodded. "It is still dark," he observed.

Alexander glanced around the room and then focused back on Hephaestion. He stroked his hair and lay beside him. "Understand me, Hephaestion," he said, his tone firmer this time. "The thoughts of others are not important."

Hephaestion looked guiltily at him and gave in. "You are certain?"

Alexander smiled in response. "At least the night is not over yet," he murmured.


	25. The siege of the Sogdian Rock

CHAPTER 24: 327BC: THE SIEGE OF THE SOGDIAN ROCK 2533

As part of his conquest of the Achaemenid Empire, Alexander had set his eyes on yet another siege. He wanted to capture the Sogdian Rock, which was a fortress located north of Bactria, in Sogdiana.

Hephaestion frowned heavily at his king. "Are you sure you are well enough to undertake yet another siege, Alexander?" He asked him as he went over to him, taking tentative steps.

Alexander managed to display a weak, thin smile on his lips. "The campaign cannot stall because I feel a little under the weather," he said in answer to Hephaestion's worried question.

"I would rather you didn't," Hephaestion said quietly to Alexander.

Alexander smiled and took his friends hand into his. "I am still alive, am in not? After all this conquering?"

Hephaestion looked down at the floor and nodded slowly and steadily. "I don't want to lose you, Alexander," he said softly.

The king smiled. "You won't lose me, Hephaestion. And, if you do, I will be found again."

News had reached Alexander that a large number of native people had taken refuge in the fortress of Sogdiana. Alexander was addressing his troops with the main details of the situation. "Whilst Darius may have slipped from my grasp," he said, with a bitter look on his face. "The man who is known to have assisted that wretch Bessus in his conspiracy to murder the Great King, an individual who goes by the name of Oxyartes the Bactrian has left his wife and daughters to the apparent safety of the Rock of Sogdiana."

"Is this 'rock' not impregnable?" Perdiccas asked his king questioningly. He, like a few other members of the Macedonian army, was not fond of Alexander's idea of trying to take over yet another fortress.

Alexander looked at him and smiled. "It would be, yes, to any other army. But, we are Macedonian!" He replied loudly, with a grin. "It is the last stronghold of Sogdia; should it happen to fall by our hand, there is sure to be nothing left for those who still hope to offer resistance to us," he then added, finishing off his persuasive argument.

Alexander and his army had reached the borders of Sogdia within a week or so of the news reaching Alexander of the people who were taking refuge within the walls of the Rock of Sogdiana. It was spring now and the sun was emitting its usual blend of warm, yellow rays. Alexander would have normally welcomed this heat, but he had been riding on Bucephalus at full gallop for almost nearly days on end. He was tired and sweaty and his hands would begin to stick to the reigns of his horse.

He was not the only one who had begun to get hot and bothered and tired. The vast majority of the other three hundred soldiers, whom Alexander had appointed to take with him to participate in the siege, were all very much feeling the hazy heat as it was absorbed by their dark red coloured tunics and reflected almost to a blinding degree by their glittering, gold cuirasses, helmets and greaves.

"Remind me why we ride bareback," Hephaestion joked to Alexander.

At last, after what seemed to many of them to be an eternity, the Rock of Sogdiana had come into their view.

"It certainly is an impressive feat of engineering," Callisthenes muttered to Cassander.

Cassander turned to face him and then he nodded in agreement. "That it definitely is, although I doubt it will remain this quiet."

Callisthenes looked at him and grinned grimly.

Hephaestion took his horse over to the king. "It rise sheer on every side," he said quietly.

Alexander nodded, musingly and then he looked over at his head of the Companion cavalry. "It certainly is, but I am sure we can overcome it," he uttered.

Hephaestion smiled through thin lips. "I hope so," he said, still feeling quite understandably unsure about the whole thing. "They must have heard about our approach," he then spoke again. He craned his neck a little and then shielded the hot sun from his eyes.

"It does seem as though they have provisioned it for a long siege," Alexander stated bluntly as he too tried to get a better look of the enemy's defences.

"I have never seen snow before," Cassander said, without being capable of keeping the high levels of excitement from out of his voice, as he pointed to the very summit of the Sogdian Rock.

"It is very strange that it should snow here and not in Macedonia," Callisthenes said to Cassander.

"We are quite far from home, though," Perdiccas joined in, and Callisthenes and Cassander looked at him and nodded sadly.

"This will certainly prove to be a challenging task," Alexander announced to his men as they advanced even further over towards the Rock of Sogdiana. "Nonetheless," he then continued. "To every man that reaches the summit, I will give praise from all quarters."

His men cheered happily, every single one of them feeling heavily motivated and determined; they wanted to make their mighty king proud of them.

And so, they started to make their ascent on the Rock.

"I hope I never see snow again," Cassander muttered, annoyed, as he brushed a piece of white, melting material off of his nose. He sniffed and looked down at his hands, which were now cold and uncomfortable to touch.

Hephaestion glanced over at him and smiled, trying not to laugh to hard, for fear that he would lose his footing and come tumbling down the side of the tall fortress.

When he and his army had managed to finally reach the first stopping point of the fortress. It was not a predetermined place to stop their ascent, but it was sturdy ground and was flat, so Alexander chose to let his men rest at this point, so that they could have some time in which to gather their much needed strength.

Sitting down on the rock face, Alexander looked around at his men. "Do you have the tents, Perdiccas?" He asked him.

Perdiccas nodded and took the bundle of tents from the few accompanying servants and dropped them down at the king's feet.

"There is not enough tents for you to have one each," Alexander announced to his men. "How many do we have?" He asked, after turning back to face Perdiccas.

Perdiccas flicked through the folded up animal hides and sticks, which were soon to be tents, and began to quickly count them. "Sixty I would say, sire," he said to Alexander, after having counted all of the tents, and he stood up again.

"So… that's five to a tent?" Alexander pondered the calculation aloud. He picked up one of the animal hides and signalled for some help. Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Cassander and Callisthenes went over to him and began to assist him in setting up the tent.

At the same time as Alexander and his friends were setting up their tent, the other soldiers were putting their tents together. The tents were very simple to use. They consisted primarily of animal hides being strung around a wooden frame made of numerous sticks and then the whole thing would be fastened down with a length of sturdy rope.

The men clambered into their tents and tried to get to sleep on the rough, rocky ground. "This is most uncomfortable," Cassander muttered as he attempted to find the least painful position for him to sleep in. He tossed and turned and sighed heavily. He sat up after a long while of struggling and proceeded to try and get to sleep whilst sitting up.

Hephaestion opened his eyes and said to him, "You can't possibly try to sleep sitting down, can you?"

Cassander looked at him and envied how easy Hephaestion was finding it to get to sleep on the very uneven ground. "Well, I can't sleep lying down either," he mumbled.

However, Hephaestion was already fast asleep. Cassander took a brief look around the tent and saw that Callisthenes was huddled up in the corner sleeping in some sort of bizarre foetal position; Perdiccas was sleeping peacefully and quietly and was lying on his front; Alexander was snoring loudly and was lying on his side; Hephaestion was the only one who was sleeping in a relatively normal way, for he was lying on his back and had his eyes shut tightly. There was no noise coming from him, except for his steady and smooth breathing.

Cassander harrumphed loudly and then lay back down in the tent. He had had just as much trouble trying to get to sleep when he and the rest of the army had been using the camp as their primary residence. He had only been able to sleep with relative ease when he had been back in Macedonia, in his home. He was barely sixteen years old when he had joined Alexander's expedition, and during that time, he had killed many men, made new friends, lost his closest friend Philotas and become a man. Even now, seven years after he and the army of Alexander had left Macedonia, he was still quite unsure as to what exactly he was doing on the expedition. He had never wanted to be home more than now. Slowly though, he began to drift off to sleep.

Morning came quickly and the sun urged the men to wake up from their slumber. Most of them had had a more or less pleasant sleep, with the exception of Cassander.

"It is morning, Cassander!" Perdiccas called out to him jovially as he stood up and stretched.

Cassander yawned loudly and sat up, putting his elbow on a jagged rock in the process. He rubbed his eyes and stared bleakly at his friend. "So it is," he murmured.

Hephaestion, once Alexander had woken up, whispered to him, "You snore."

Alexander was alarmed. He shook his head in disbelief. "I do?" He asked him, confused.

"You do," Hephaestion replied with a nod of his head and he smiled. "I've never actually noticed it before."

"Anyway," Alexander said, wanting to change the subject. He got up onto his feet and gestured for Cassander to get up, which he slowly did. "We have to keep going," Alexander said. "The sooner we start again, the sooner we will reach the top."

So, the men gathered up their possessions and then promptly packed away all of the tents. They put on their armour after that and waited patiently and intently for their king's next order

"The first man to reach the top of this rock will receive a prize of twelve talents," Alexander announced to his men.

After hearing this, all of the men started to smile and chatter amongst themselves.

However, Alexander had not yet finished with his speech. "The second man to reach the top will get eleven talents, the tenth man shall get ten talents…" he said. "The twelfth man to reach the top shall receive three hundred gold darics," he finished.

Alexander's army was already very motivated, but the promise of a prize increased their determination even further.

"So, if I reach the top first, will I get twelve talents?" Hephaestion asked his king as they resumed their climb up the side of the sheer rock face.

Alexander cast him an amused gaze. "Yes, but will you be the first?" He asked him in a questioning manner.

"Not if I have to wait for you," Hephaestion replied, grinning.

Smiling, Alexander ignored him and they continued to climb up the precipice. Suddenly, his attention was drawn away from what he was doing. He heard a sharp yell and instantly turned his head to see what the problem was. He squinted in the sunlight and saw that five of his men had fallen off the rock face. He started to clamber down, as if wanting to save them, but Hephaestion put his hand on his shoulder.

"Alexander," he said firmly. "You can't go down there. They're probably already dead."

With a stern and worried expression on his face, Alexander sighed and carried on with his ascent of the mighty fortress. A few moments later, more and more shrill yelps were heard as a further ten men lost their footing and came crashing down onto the rocky grassland down below. Alexander shuddered and managed to block the thought of the falling men from his mind.

After climbing for another half an hour or so, Alexander stopped moving. Hephaestion looked over at him worriedly. "Are you tired?" He asked him gently.

Alexander shook his head and sighed. "No, not at all," he said, sounding slightly weak as he did so.

Hephaestion furrowed his brow and waited for the king to match his pace, before he himself slowed down a little and they continued with their climb.

The next day, the summit seemed closer than ever. "Come on, men!" Alexander called out merrily to his soldiers. He was leading the head of the procession, but had decided to drop back a little, so as to allow his men a fairer chance of achieving the prizes which he had promised them earlier on in their ascent. He witnessed the deaths of fifteen more men, most of whom had tripped in the snow or slipped and lost their footing. Their leather sandals were not very suitable for rock climbing. Alexander squinted in the sun as he watched the first group of men reach the top of the Rock.

Alexander had now reached the Rock's summit. He reached his hand out to Hephaestion and pulled him up. Cassander, Perdiccas, Callisthenes, Aesop, Gaios, Diodotus and Erasmos soon followed. Further over to his left, Alexander noticed that two men were arguing over which one of them had reached the top of the Rock first. He got to his feet carefully, being mindful that he could lose his footing at any time, and went over to them. "What is the problem?" He asked them, maintain authority.

The two men stopped arguing as soon as they saw Alexander walk over. They were quickly quiet.

"I didn't see who got up here first, but I will not tolerate lying in my army," he said, looking at them with a stern expression on his face. "If you two cannot come to a decision, then you will both get nothing." He left after they had thanked him. He then went back over to Hephaestion.

"What did you do?" He asked the king.

Alexander sighed and looked at him. "Don't worry," he muttered quietly.

In order to tell their success to the troops below who had not reached the summit of the Rock, Alexander ordered the men who were with him to wave sheets of linen. Alexander then sent a crier to inform the enemy's advanced posts that the summit had been taken and that it would be very wise for them to surrender now.

The enemy had caught sight of Alexander's troops. Although they were only actually able to see but a handful of the Macedonian troops, they imagined that there would be a larger force on its way, and they promptly then surrender.


	26. Roxana

CHAPTER 25: 327BC: ROXANA 912

"You cannot be serious!" Perdiccas yelled to Alexander.

Alexander frowned at him. "Why?" He questioned him angrily and paced around the room. He tried to ignore Perdiccas' words.

Perdiccas walked over to him briskly. "She is the enemy, Alexander!" He replied loudly.

"So?" Alexander asked him.

"You cannot marry the enemy!" Perdiccas said hotly.

"Why can I not?" Alexander said.

"What is this marriage for? Surely it isn't for love?" He asked him, changing the subject quickly.

"Of course it is not for love, Perdiccas! If I am to extend my empire, I need to forge good relationships with the Persians," Alexander replied simply, in an almost nonchalant manner.

"For Zeus' sake, Alexander!" Perdiccas exclaimed, fed up and frustrated. "She is Bactrian! Were we not just fighting them!?"

Alexander simply shrugged. "Macedonia needs more allies, Perdiccas," he answered him bluntly and to the point.

Perdiccas muttered quietly to himself, "I wonder how he is to tell Hephaestion." Luckily, Alexander had not heard him and he left the room angrily and feeling annoyed.

A few moments later, Hephaestion poked his head around the door. "Alexander?" He said as he gingerly walked into the room.

Alexander turned around to face him. "I'm sure you've heard from Perdiccas," he murmured.

Hephaestion nodded slowly and sadly. "I have, yes." He walked over to the king. "Look, Alexander," he said gently. "This has nothing to do with me, but… if you do love this girl, then, I am happy for you."

Alexander shook his head firmly and took Hephaestion's hand. "No, I assure you, I do not love her."

"Then… why marry her?" Hephaestion asked him, cocking his head to one side slightly.

"I am the king," Alexander said, shrugging a little. "If I marry the eldest of Oxyartes' daughters, then the Bactrian and then the Persians will quickly kneel." He put his hand on Hephaestion's cheek, gently stroking the hair from out of his eyes. "I promise you, I do not love her. How could I love her? We have met but once."

Hephaestion nodded and blinked briefly. Alexander pulled him into an embrace.

"You can be my best man," Alexander said to Hephaestion.

Hephaestion smiled unsurely.

The wedding ceremony was to take place outside, in the most splendid of settings. Alexander had chosen the location personally. He and Roxana were stood, facing each other, while Hephaestion, Perdiccas, Cassander and Callisthenes were standing nearby wearing their best robes. A woman was stood behind Roxana and she lifted her hands up to remove the heavy veil which was covering up Roxana's face.

Once the veil had been removed, Alexander stared at her, not out of love or desire, but instead out of pure wonder. He was handed a beautiful garland by a young boy and he gave it to Roxana, who took it silently. Standing at the side, with Perdiccas, Cassander and Callisthenes, Hephaestion was begrudgingly holding onto a blazing torch, as was customary during weddings that were conducted in accordance with the Bactrian convention.

After the main ceremony had taken place, a huge, magnificent banquet was arranged to take place. Alexander was sat, as usual, at the head of the table. However, he felt slightly different, because it was no longer Hephaestion who was sat next to him, it was Roxana. Hephaestion was sat quite a distance away, seated along with the other companions.

"Do not despair, Hephaestion," Cassander said helpfully to the troubled man.

Hephaestion drank his wine and looked at the young soldier.

A few days after the splendid wedding had taken place, Alexander was sat in his study, thinking deeply. He had been in the process of writing a letter to his mother, but now he had finished and he was just simply sitting there, being rather idle. He jumped as he heard a knock on the door. He called out, accepting them to come in.

Hephaestion walked in quietly and met with Alexander in the centre of the room. "Where is Roxana?" He asked softly.

Alexander shook his head slowly. "I do not know," he replied to him.

"Now that you are king of so many regions," Hephaestion muttered. "You will be loved by a great many people." He stopped and began to cry softly. "But none like I love you," he ceased talking and a tear escaped from behind his eye.

Alexander reached up and wiped away the tear. He held Hephaestion at arm's length. "Do not speak, Hephaestion," he said to him softly. He embraced him, holding him close, and leant his head on his shoulder.

At that moment, the door swung open. Roxana walked in and stared at them with angry eyes. "You… love him…?" She asked Alexander. "You cannot love him!"

Alexander lifted his head up off of Hephaestion's shoulder and looked at her with empty eyes. "I love Hephaestion," he said to her firmly.

She frowned and said, "This… This is wrong!"

Hephaestion was about to leave, when Alexander held his arm. "There are different ways to love, Roxana. I have love for Macedonia and for all its citizens, and I also have love for Hephaestion. But… I do not have love for you."

Roxana, who did not love Alexander either, as she had been roped into the marriage by her sisters and by Alexander in the hopes of strengthening a simple alliance, opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again, before walking out hurriedly.

Alexander looked back at Hephaestion. "This is not wrong, is it, Hephaestion?"


	27. The imprisonment of Callisthenes

CHAPTER 26: 327BC: THE IMPRISONMENT OF CALLISTHENES 3116

Alexander woke up and had expected to see Hephaestion lying beside him when he opened his eyes, but he didn't. Instead, he saw the peaceful, sleeping face of the beautiful Roxana. He sat up, got up on to his feet and left her lying there. He went over to the door and walked down the halls of the palace. He rubbed his temples wearily and went over to the balcony. Holding onto the stone railing carefully, he stood there and stared out at the wonderful sight which was held before his eyes. He remained stood there for quite some time, until the sun steadily rose and he blinked in the direct sunlight.

Callisthenes had also apparently had some trouble sleeping, because he had gotten up during the middle of the night. He had had very much the same idea as Alexander and he went to go and join the king on the balcony. Alexander had barely even notice that Callisthenes was now standing beside him, taking in the wonderful view.

"This is foolishness," without even a moment of thought, Callisthenes muttered the words essentially mindlessly to the king.

Alexander, finally, had registered his presence. "What is?" He asked him, feeling curious and also a little confused as to why he had just said that.

Callisthenes sighed quietly and gently. "I could just about put up with your marriage to that Persian girl," he stated bluntly and to the point. "But, I am not sure if I can cope with your adoption of more and more Persian customs," he said, finishing off his sentence as he spoke his mind.

Alexander frowned heavily and glared at his friend and fellow solider. He didn't say anything else to him and he hoped that his challenging stare would be a big enough incentive for Callisthenes to be quiet and not say anymore of the matter. After Callisthenes had hurled more insults in his direction, subtle though they were, Alexander had decided that he had finally had enough. He gripped Callisthenes firmly around the neck and pushed him down so that the man's head was resting on the stone barrier. "I am the king," Alexander said to him, through gritted teeth. "Should you happen to have any problems with the way I am ruling, you are to raise them in the court meetings."

Callisthenes coughed and tried to get air flowing back into his lungs. Wheezing, he replied, "I would surely do that, if you were not so overbearing in the meetings."

Alexander tightened his grip around the man's neck. As he was sleeping not that far away, Perdiccas awoke after hearing the commotion nearby. He got out of bed and pulled on his tunic quickly. He then rushed out onto the balcony. His eyes involuntarily opened wider than ever when he saw what Alexander was doing. Callisthenes' handsome face had gone red and was actually beginning to go a sickly shade of purple. "Sire!" He yelled.

Alexander turned to face Perdiccas, but he didn't let his grip loose from Callisthenes' neck.

Perdiccas tried to pull Alexander off of Callisthenes, but he wasn't strong enough. In the meantime, Cassander had entered onto the balcony. He slung his hands underneath Alexander's shoulders and, with Perdiccas' help, managed to prize Alexander away from Callisthenes.

Callisthenes fell forwards onto his knees. He clutched at his throat and wheezed and coughed heavily. Slowly but surely, the colour began to return to his cheeks. He clawed at the floor and then managed to haul himself up onto his feet.

Alexander, however, was not yet finished with Callisthenes. He was so outraged regarding how he had been spoken to by Callisthenes, and how the man had so rashly and insolently presented his views on Persian customs. "Guards!" He yelled out at full volume.

The guards, thinking that there was something actually severely wrong happening to their king, came charging onto the balcony. There, the two of them exchanged worried looks when they quickly caught sight of Callisthenes, who was still rasping in the corner. One of the bodyguards, the tallest, but least attractive, addressed Alexander, saying, "Sire? You called?"

Alexander's face twisted into a terrible sneer. He nodded in Callisthenes' direction and said firmly, "Arrest him."

Perdiccas and Cassander looked at each other with horrified expressions on their faces. "He is lucky I don't have a dagger with me," Cassander muttered to Perdiccas, referring to Alexander. "Otherwise I might just run him through."

Fortunately for Cassander, Alexander had been too stressed and embroiled in the matter concerning Callisthenes' apparent wrongdoing to notice what he had just said.

The guards hesitated briefly, unsure if they should listen to Alexander or not.

Alexander grew even more angry and frustrated. "Now!" He yelled at the guards.

They nodded swiftly and shakily and then dragged Callisthenes away from the balcony and through the halls of the palace. Hephaestion had been woken up by the loud wails of Callisthenes and Alexander's furious yelling. He clambered out of bed and opened the door of his quarters to see Callisthenes being hauled away by two muscly guards. "Callisthenes?!" He exclaimed in horror. "What has happened?"

Callisthenes looked at him with faded eyes. "Alexander," he muttered and then he was whisked around the corner by the two guards, and in the direction of the state prison.

Hephaestion ran over to Alexander, who was sat on the floor of the balcony. Perdiccas and Cassander had left out of deep sadness for Callisthenes and were on their way to the prison building. Hephaestion sat on the floor beside him. He tried to get a hold of the king, and firmly held him at arms' length. "Alexander?" He cried. "What is it? What has Callisthenes done?"

"It seems that the conspiracy of Philotas and Parmenion is still very much alive," Alexander muttered quietly, so quiet that it was almost inaudible.

Hephaestion frowned lightly. "What? What do you mean?" He asked him, with the nervousness detectable in his voice.

Sternly, Alexander replied to him, "Callisthenes has dared to speak out against me. Against my beliefs and my customs."

"Only, they are not your customs," Hephaestion reminded him. "They are Persian customs," he added. "It is to be expected that some Macedonians will not welcome these customs with open arms."

Alexander sniffed and was quiet. He lifted his head up off his arms and looked out at the skyline, trying hard to ignore Hephaestion's logical words.

"I am not your father, Alexander, although sometimes, I feel as though I am," Hephaestion said to him harshly and authoritatively. "You cannot throw a tantrum like a child whenever someone does not agree with you!"

Again, Alexander remained quiet.

So, Hephaestion continued, saying, "You must have known that your people would not take kindly to such degrading acts as proskynesis and obeisance."

Alexander stopped looking out at the city and he turned to face Hephaestion. "Why have you not given up on me?" He asked him despairingly.

He didn't know. Hephaestion smiled thinly. "Because…. I care about you, Alexander. You are the king. You are my friend." He then changed the subject, because he knew Alexander did not deserve that much pity; it was he who had brought this on. "What are you going to do with Callisthenes?" Hephaestion then asked him.

Alexander didn't reply.

When Callisthenes awoke, the first thing that he saw was the gloomy wall of the cell. It was dark and dirty and there was moss and grime on almost every single inch of it. He frowned when he came to the disturbing realization that he was laying down on the floor of the cell. The environment was not a particularly nice one. He would not really wish it on even his worst enemy. Although, he thought to himself with great levels of contempt, he would not object to having Alexander thrown in the cell instead of himself.

There was a single, solitary candle in the corner of the cell. Callisthenes quickly gathered that he had been placed in one of the most pleasant of cells that were on offer. He had been to the prison block before, but only out of shear curiosity, never as an actual convict himself. However, the light that the candle gave off was quite feeble, so it didn't really make much difference at all.

He tried to adjust to the gloomy surroundings which now encompassed him. Then, just at that moment, he saw something move in amongst the thick sea of shadows. However, on closer inspection, he soon saw that it was just a spider. Spiders were certainly not one of his most favoured types of animal. Nevertheless, when he saw this spider now, he felt glad that it was there, to his deep astonishment and confusion. It made him feel as though he wasn't the only thing there. He wasn't alone. Swiftly though, and as hurriedly as it had arrived, the little arachnid left and Callisthenes was, once again, all alone.

However, after coming to the disturbing realisation that there was nothing he could do in the cell to pass the time, Callisthenes decided that he would try to get some sleep. So, he curled up in the corner, trying to make a bed from hay and straw and closed his eyes. Just as he was finally starting to drift off into the peaceful realm of sleep, he was jolted awake by a sudden, loud noise. He opened his eyes, startled, and noticed that the door of the cell had been opened. Unsure of why it was not closed, he started to crawl over to it, but he was promptly made to retreat back into the corner when two feet came into view. He followed the two sandaled feet up and he realised that a Macedonian soldier was standing before him. The soldier bent down and placed a bowl onto the floor. "Eat this," the soldier commanded in his gruff and sharp voice.

Callisthenes just simply stared at him and blinked in bewilderment. He had never been in prison before and he realised that this was what the food would be like. The soldier who had brought him the food then quickly left and the cell door was swung shut with a loud bang. Callisthenes gingerly picked up the bowl of food and examined its contents. The food looked like slop; it was the sort of thing that only the poorest of farmers would feed to his pigs. It was thick and creamy and appeared as though it had already actually been digested. It smelt awful. It was truly revolting. He nervously brought it up to his nose and sniffed it tentatively. As soon as the edge of the bowl had reached his nose, he almost instantaneously was forced to put it back down.

Then, he heard another noise. It was Perdiccas and Cassander. They came bounding into the prison block and were waiting impatiently for the guards to move out of their way. Once the guards had finally moved, Perdiccas and Cassander went over to the cell that Callisthenes was in. "Callisthenes?" Cassander called out to him. Although there was a ten year age difference between the two of them, they had become quite good friends during their expedition with Alexander.

Callisthenes put down the bowl of slop and went over to the cell door. He smiled with happiness when he realised that Perdiccas and Cassander had come to visit him. "I doubt Alexander has had a change of mind?" He asked them, still trying to sound helpful.

Perdiccas looked over at Cassander and shook his head sorrowfully. "No, he has not," he said sadly. "He has not been seen publicly for two days."

Cassander nodded in agreement with him. "I think he's lost has mind," he said quietly, hoping that the guards wouldn't hear.

They didn't.

Callisthenes hung his head miserably and then looked up at his friends. "Never mind," he said simply.

"Hephaestion is the only one the king will talk to," Cassander stated bluntly. He was too worried for Callisthenes' life that he didn't even think to joke about Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship.

Callisthenes frowned. "Not even Roxana?" He asked him.

Cassander and Perdiccas both shook their heads sullenly. "Not even her. He won't speak to anyone."

"Can you not tell Hephaestion to talk some sense into the king?" Callisthenes asked them desperately.

Perdiccas thought for a moment. "We will try, Callisthenes," he replied gently. "We will."

"We'll try anything we can," Cassander added. He paused for a short while and then said cautiously, "Alexander thinks you were involved in that conspiracy with Parmenion and Philotas."

Callisthenes shook his head. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"No, no," Cassander said and he and Perdiccas shook their heads adamantly. "But, Alexander does," Cassander then said. "And, ultimately, it is his decision."

When Callisthenes awoke the next day, it was not because he wanted to. He had had a terrible itching sensation on his legs and arms. He sat up and pulled back his tunic to see that there were horrific red marks on both of his thigh. This plight covered his arms up to the elbow lightly, but then it was even more severe further up towards the shoulder. He reached up to touch his neck and felt that the spots and boils were on his neck as well. They were on his feet and hands and were indeed all over his body. He scrabbled about for his cup of water and soon found it. He stared into the shaking water and saw that his face was covered in the pustules as well; a tear slipped from his eye and ripples started to appear in the murky liquid. He cried out and he began to shake involuntarily. He threw the water against the wall of the cell, which ricocheted of it made a loud ringing sound.

One of the guards had heard his cry and he rushed over. He was shocked with what he saw before him. Callisthenes was huddled in the corner, scratching furiously at the cuts and boils on his bronzed skin.

Callisthenes looked up at him with pitiful eyes. "Can you get Alexander?" He groaned painfully.

The guard shook his head. "The king will not see anyone," he said defiantly.

"Please…" Callisthenes muttered. "Perdiccas… Cassander… Hephaestion… Anyone! The doctor!"

The guard nodded and said, "I shall get the doctor." Saying that, he briskly left to go and find the doctor. He returned moments later with an old man who had a long white beard and deep lines etched into his forehead. He studied Callisthenes deeply. "This is not good," he said simply.

Callisthenes shook his head in disbelief and worry as he continued to scratch at the excruciating boils and blisters.

Hephaestion had heard that there was a problem with Callisthenes, as he had been with Alexander when the news was delivered to the king. Alexander seemed to have been unfazed by the news, but Hephaestion left him and went to the prison block to see how Callisthenes was. "If you wish to stay here and sulk, then so be it! I am going to see to our friend," Hephaestion said to the king as he was leaving. He quickly reached Callisthenes' cell.

"What has happened?" Hephaestion questioned the doctor angrily.

The frail old man shook his head. "I do not know. I think it may have been something native to Macedonia. I have never seen anything like it."

"What? Has he been poisoned?" Hephaestion asked him, despairing for his friend.

"I doubt that, my friend," the elderly doctor replied simply. "It is an illness. He will not survive the night."

Callisthenes began to sob, and then he stopped. "Hephaestion," he whispered. "Finish me."

"What?" Hephaestion said, surprised by his request.

"Please," Callisthenes moaned. "Please… The pain is unbearable. Get your sword… it will be quick."

Hephaestion shook his head. "No, no," he said softly, as he shook his head slowly. "I cannot do that. Too many of our friends have been killed. I won't do that."

Callisthenes lay back down on the hard floor of the cell and closed his eyes, desperately trying to ignore the excruciating pain that his entire body was in.

"There must be something you can do," Hephaestion pleaded with the doctor.

The doctor sighed and handed over to him a small vial, which contained a potent infusion of the hemlock plant. Hephaestion took the vial and smelt it, only to be warned to do otherwise by the doctor. "What is it?" Hephaestion asked the doctor.

"It will make death painless and quick," he replied, essentially avoiding the question which Hephaestion had just put to him.

Hephaestion showed the vial to Callisthenes, who nodded. "Are you certain?" Hephaestion asked him.

Callisthenes nodded and Hephaestion helped him to drink it. Callisthenes drank the whole contents of the vial.

After a few minutes, the doctor tapped Callisthenes' leg. "Are you able to feel this?" He asked him.

"No," Callisthenes replied as he looked up at Hephaestion in despair.

A few more minutes had passed on by and the poison had no really started to have an effect on his nervous systems. He could now no longer feel any sort of sensation, whether it was pleasant or otherwise, in his feet, legs or groin. His chest started to freeze up and he coughed violently. Eventually, after less than five minutes or so of the poison being administered, it had reached his heart and the blood would no longer flow throughout his body. Callisthenes went limp as his heart gave out and his brain ceased to function.

Hephaestion wept over the body of his dead friend and ordered that Cassander and Perdiccas be told of Callisthenes' death immediately. So, the guard who had been standing nearby, obeyed his order.

There was rage and sorrow in Alexander's eyes. "He is dead?" He asked Hephaestion quietly, not quite believing that it was the truth. "How can this be?"

"Why do you want to know?" Hephaestion answered him angrily. "So you can complain about how much you wanted to be the one to kill him?"

Alexander shook his head, obviously feeling hurt by that remark. "No, no," he replied sadly. "I was wrong about Callisthenes," he said. "Just like I was with Parmenion and Philotas and Cleitus."

"No, Cleitus brought his death on himself," Hephaestion amended.

"Why do you care for me still, Hephaestion?" Alexander asked him desperately as he sat down on the edge of the bed and sobbed, with his head in his hands and he ran his fingers through his curly hair.

Hephaestion was quite, not knowing why he did in fact care for the king. He did love him, he knew that, but he was not sure if that love was still there. He wanted so very much to forgive Alexander, but he wasn't sure if he could.

Cassander and Perdiccas had also just been made aware of Callisthenes' passing. They were silent, except for the sound of Cassander as he wept into Perdiccas' cuirass, whilst Perdiccas tried to comfort him.


	28. The dancing boy

CHAPTER 27: 327BC: THE DANCING BOY 1812

The group of twenty Persian men were travelling on their horses at full gallop. They had been journeying for quite some time. The weather was hot and sticky and the perspiration on their brow was coming down in front of their eyes in tiny little beads. Nineteen of the Persians were old men, but one of them was a young man. He had barely even reached his eighteenth birthday yet. He had to ride on a donkey, because the Persian high officials did not particularly trust eunuchs like he himself was.

The man at the head of the Persian procession steadied his magnificently white stallion and he held up his bronzed hand and the men behind him noticed at they too quickly came to a stop behind him. He got off his horse and he chose five of his Persian associates to come with him. As well as them, he also ordered that the Persian boy be taken from his donkey and accompany them.

They reached the gates of the palace and announced their presence to the guards. The guards exchanged concerned looks with each other. They were still, like the vast majority of the Macedonian population, not particularly fond of Alexander's adoption of Persian customs. They saw the Persian people as being just simply barbarians. They did not want anything more to do with them. They were happy to imprison them and slaughter them on the battlefield, but they would not want to have to endure a conversation with them.

Finally, one of the guards managed to put aside their differences. He studied the Persian men, who were huge and every single one of them had menacing facial expressions. That is, except for the adolescent, who was slight in build and was beautiful. He stared at the boy for a short while, being a little confused as to what exactly he was doing with this rather intimidating men. "What is your business with King Alexander?" The guard asked as he frowned at every single one of the Persians.

The man who had been at the head of the Persian procession, took a slight step forward. "We have a gift for him," he replied, showing stained, yellow teeth, which were just about visible underneath the forest-like beard and moustache which covered the majority of the man's face.

The guard frowned. He could see no horses, no gold, and no treasure that the Persians were holding. Nothing. He looked over at the other Macedonian guard, who simply shrugged. Then, the other guard caught sight of the slender Persian boy. He whispered to the other guard, "I think they mean the slave boy."

"You mean to give King Alexander a slave?" The guard asked the Persian official in a rather questioning tone of voice.

The Persian grinned, and once again, his horrible teeth were made visible. "Is that a problem?" He asked, with mock politeness.

The guard hesitated for a brief moment and then he said simply, "There are more than enough slaves in the palace. We have no need for another one."

"Yes, but this one is special," the Persian said, smirking. He nodded to the one of the Persian men behind him, who ordered the Persian boy to remove his cloak in Persian dialect.

The boy did as he was told and the cloak dropped to the floor. His skin was not bare, for he did have a loincloth tied around his waist and exquisite gold patterns were drawn on his shoulders. His physique was very slender, although it was well toned and the muscles in his body were quite visible.

Thinking the worst of the Persian, understandably, the Macedonian guard demanded that the Persian slave boy have his clothes back on and he said that the boy would be delivered to Alexander. He thought that the boy's life with Alexander would be considerably better than that he had had living with these simply grotesque barbarians. The Persians tried to follow the boy through the gates, but the guards pushed them back.

The guards, knowing that they couldn't leave their assigned posts, handed the boy over to some other guards, called Heraclius and Markos. Heraclius and Markos led the boy inside the palace.

"Doesn't he talk?" Heraclius muttered under his breath.

Markos had heard him say this. "I am sure he does. He is probably just a little scared," he replied logically.

"Can't say I blame him, actually," Heraclius said agreeably. "Having to spend so much time with those barbarians must have been almost unbearable."

The boy was Persian. He clenched his fists and managed to control his anger.

The guards quickly led the boy to the banquet hall. "You are to wait in the wings," Heraclius said to the boy sternly.

The boy cocked his head to one side, but he didn't speak to them.

Markos whispered to Heraclius that the boy couldn't have understood them. So, with a lot of gestures and miming, they managed to explain properly.

On the other side of the door, a splendidly magnificent feast was underway. Alexander had ordered it for no apparent reason. Although, many thought that it was because of the king's recent reconciliation with Hephaestion. Roxana had been taken ill, although it was not a serious illness. So, Hephaestion was able to sit beside Alexander once again, like he had done for many years before Alexander had married the Persian woman.

Alexander smiled as Hephaestion took what seemed to be like his rightful place in the banquet hall. "What is wrong will Roxana?" Hephaestion asked him, with a tiny bit of concern.

"The maids won't tell me, but they say it is certainly not serious," Alexander said calmly, however, he was still feeling worried for his wife.

"I have been talking to Heraclius and Markos," Hephaestion said bluntly.

Alexander took a sip of his wine and then set the cup back down on the table in front of him. "What were you talking about?" He asked.

"Some barbarians…" he droned off and changed his mind. "Persians," he said guiltily. "Visited the palace today."

"What did they want?" Alexander asked him with a bemused look on his face.

"They had gift for you," Hephaestion replied, smiling.

"What could I possibly want a gift for?" Alexander asked, scoffing. "I have all that I could possibly need." He looked at Hephaestion and smiled at him, who smiled broadly in return.

"It is a boy," Hephaestion said.

"A boy?" Alexander said, confused.

"Yes, the gift. It is a boy," Hephaestion clarified for him.

Just at that moment, before Alexander could even say anything else in answer to Hephaestion, the musicians started to play. The trumpeters and buglers started to play a droning, upbeat melody and bells started to jingle and shake. Hephaestion frowned and then finished off his glass of wine.

"What's happening?" Hephaestion asked his king, who just simply looked at him with an equally as confused look as he had and shrugged.

Then, the Persian boy who had been brought in came into the room. Except, he was not just walking. He was prancing about and leaping through the air, putting on some sort of magnificent display for the guests at the banquet. His eyes, however, were focused completely on Alexander. Alexander, too, was mesmerised by the sight which was on display before his eyes.

Perdiccas nudged Hephaestion. "He's eyeing the king pretty closely," he said quietly.

Hephaestion looked at him annoyingly. "I can see that," he muttered through tightly gritted teeth. The boy had a mesmerising look in his eyes. The boy's firm torso would twist and writhe about as he moved. His arms would curl around and his long hair would flow like the tail on a galloping horse. His eyes were outlined in black charcoal and his skin seemed to glitter and sparkle.

The guests had noticed that the boy was signalling for Alexander to come over to him, but the king himself had not. He was too enthralled in the magnificent spectacle taking place in front of him. Hephaestion said to Alexander, rather reluctantly, "I think they want you to dance."

Alexander was confused. He broke his gaze at the young boy and his eyes flickered over to Hephaestion. "What?" He asked, feeling greatly perplexed.

However, Alexander's confusion was soon put to an end when, all of a sudden, the guests at the banquet erupted into an almighty clamour. "Kiss!" They cried at full volume.

Alexander correctly assumed that they meant for him to kiss the Persian boy, so he got up from his seat and looked back at Hephaestion, who had a very unsure and hurt look on his face. Alexander went over to the boy, who stopped dancing and rose to his feet. Alexander, without really thinking the whole thing through properly, threw his arms around the boy and kissed his lips fully.

Hephaestion couldn't watch. He made an excuse to talk to Perdiccas and he turned away. Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander could notice Hephaestion's hurt look and he slowly ended the kiss with the Persian boy.

"I am Bagoas, my lord," the Persian boy said in a sultry voice.

The night after the banquet had taken place, Alexander went to see Roxana. At first, her maidservants would not let him into the room, but he managed to, at last, get them to open the door for him. He wandered into the room, to see Roxana was sitting by the window, staring out thoughtfully as she looked at the city below.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I gather you are well now?" He asked her softly.

She looked up at him and nodded quickly. She then continued to look out of the window, before realising that Alexander was still stood behind her and she stood up in front of him. "What is it?" She asked him, after noticing that he had a rather confused and worried expression on his handsome face.

He sighed and then took her hand. "You do not agree with me and Hephaestion, do you?" He asked her quietly, and he braced himself for what her answer was sure to be.

"I do not think it is proper," she said simply. "A relationship such as that has no rewards to reap," she then added bluntly.

Alexander frowned and then sighed quietly. "It has its own rewards," he replied, almost in a silent tone of voice.

"Then, if you are happy," she began carefully. "I will no longer object."

"I am sorry if you feel…" he paused, thinking of the right word to say. "Neglected," he decided to say. "But, Hephaestion and I have known each other since before you were even born."

She smiled thinly. "I understand, Alexander," she said, with her Persian accent still audible when she spoke. "This marriage is for Macedonia," she said understandably. "I regret sometimes that there are no feelings between us."

Alexander hung his head and then he kissed her cheek.


	29. The battle of the Hydaspes River

CHAPTER 28: 326BC: THE BATTLE OF THE HYDASPES RIVER 3124

"Are you certain?" Cassander, frowning slightly, asked his king as he walked over to him and folded his arms, as if hoping that that gesture would be enough for Alexander to change his mind.

Alexander smiled through slightly thin lips. "Of course I am certain, Cassander," he said defiantly, trying to maintain his authority over his men.

Hephaestion wandered over to the king. "I have heard that the Indians are much better fighters than the Persians," he muttered to Alexander.

The king turned to face him. "And... where have you heard this?" He asked his friend with a rather unconvinced grin on his face.

The commander of the Companion cavalry was, for a brief moment, being not entirely sure as to what he should give as a response to his king's words. "I… uh…" he broke of his sentence and then hung his head quietly. "Look, Alexander," he said firmly, trying to get a hold of himself. "The Persians, they were simple to overcome. As were the Gazans and the Tyrians. But… this is different. The Indians are ruthless fighters. They will stop at nothing."

Alexander smiled at his obviously quite troubled friend. "Do not despair, my dear Hephaestion," he said softly to him. "We have won many battles, together, have we not?"

Hephaestion lifted his head up and nodded slowly, looking deeply into Alexander's odd, yet somehow mesmerising eyes. "We have," he murmured quietly; it was so quiet that it was very close to actually being inaudible.

"Then, I promise you, Hephaestion," Alexander said kindly. "We will be the victors. Never mind these foolish Indians. They treat these monkeys as people and cannot ride horses, so have to settle for those huge grey beasts."

Hephaestion grinned briefly and then laughed quietly to himself.

"Anyway," Perdiccas muttered to them, ruining their moment. "We have already camped out here. We can't realistically go home just because Hephaestion feels a little homesick, can we?" He laughed.

Alexander looked over at him and smiled. "See, even Perdiccas is ready to go," he said happily.

Hephaestion looked at him and smiled sardonically.

Perdiccas shook his head and then he left. He signalled for Cassander to follow him, which he did, albeit rather reluctantly. Cassander and Perdiccas then left the tent, talking to themselves.

"You're really worried aren't you?" Alexander asked Hephaestion as they sat on the bench towards the back of the royal tent.

Hephaestion shook his head, trying to hide his true feelings from the king. "I am worried for you, Alexander," he said shyly. "Not for the battle or the outcome or myself. But, for you."

Alexander chuckled quietly, without even moving his mouth as he did so. "Why should you be worried about me?"

"I just have a bad feeling about this. I am sure something bad will happen to you."

Alexander let Hephaestion lean his head against his shoulder and then Roxana came in. Hephaestion stared at her guiltily for a short moment, before lifting his head up off of Alexander's shoulder slowly and reservedly.

"I was just coming to get some food," Roxana said in her sweet, slightly accented Persian voice as she took an apple and left the tent.

"You have my word," Alexander murmured to Hephaestion. "I will take good care of myself."

Dawn came quickly and the May sun shone down on the camp. However, the weather was not particularly favourable. As he stepped out of his tent, Cassander sighed and groaned.

"Don't tell me you have never seen rain before," Perdiccas muttered to him, annoyed and confused by the young man's reaction.

Cassander smiled sarcastically at the man. "Of course I have," he shot back quietly.

Perdiccas shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Well, you had never seen snow before," he murmured to him.

"Well no, but that's because I had never even left Macedonia before this campaign," Cassander replied to him. "Besides," he then continued with his answer. "I am not old enough to remember the time when the Heavens opened frequently."

Perdiccas scoffed and then went over to the royal tent. He told the guards who were hovering outside that he wished to see the king. They studied him for a short moment and then the two of the stepped aside. Perdiccas entered the tent and he saw that Alexander was still peacefully asleep with the sleeping Roxana in his arms. "My king," Perdiccas ventured cautiously.

Hearing him enter and speak, Alexander instantly sat bolt upright, disturbing Roxana. He turned to face Perdiccas. "Yes, Perdiccas, what is it?" He asked him, sensing that there was something wrong.

"It is dawn," Perdiccas replied to him as he took off his helmet and wiped the rain off of it with his fingers. He stared at it for a moment and then he put it back on. "You said we would start our march over the Hydaspes River at the time when the sun rose."

Alexander nodded and then he swiftly got out of the bed. He pulled on his blood red tunic and his sandals. He then ordered that his servants assist him with his armour. The servants quickly strode in, carrying Alexander's golden armour. One of the servants was Bagoas, that dancing Persian boy whom Alexander had inexplicably acquired from Darius only a few months earlier.

One of the servants gave Alexander his two gleaming greaves, which the king then promptly fastened around his muscular legs. Another servant fastened the king's golden cuirass and gave Alexander his helmet. Alexander ruffled the feathers which protruded from out of the top of it and then he put it neatly over his head. Bagoas handed him his red cloak, which he then fastened to the back of Alexander's cuirass.

Roxana stood up and gave Alexander a piece of purple cloth. She tied it around Alexander's right wrist and he stared down at it with confusion in his eyes. She put her hands on his face and kissed his lips. "You'll be all right, won't you?" She asked him nervously.

He nodded and stroked her hair. "I will be back shortly, after I have taught these Indians a lesson." He smiled.

Roxana smiled back and watched as her husband walked out of the tent and he met with his senior officers.

"So," Alexander said firmly to his men. "We begin our march across the Hydaspes River today."

His men talked amongst themselves and then the cavalry mounted, with the six-thousand strong infantry following closely behind. At the head of the marching procession, as always, was Alexander. Every time that he happened to move, the sun would reflect off of his cuirass and his burgundy cloak would swish around. Next to Alexander were Hephaestion, Cassander, Perdiccas, Coenus, Craterus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Demonicus of Pella and Peucestas. They had all been chosen indivually by Alexander himself.

"I hope you and Craterus have managed to see past your differences," Alexander muttered to Hephaestion as he patted the dark hide of Bucephalus and the horse whinnied and kicked in delight.

Hephaestion shrugged slightly. "To some extent, yes," he murmured.

"I will try and keep you two apart," Alexander said to him, in a voice that was loud enough so that Craterus could hear what he was saying.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the river of the Hydaspes, the commander of the Indian army, an old man called Porus, could just about see Alexander and his mightily revered army as they crossed the river.

Proceeding downstream, the rain continued to fall. With every second that the rain fell, it seemed to be getting more and more heavy and powerful.

"I can't see a thing!" Cassander moaned to himself as he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

Perdiccas smirked at him. "Then, maybe you should have stayed back at the camp. With all the women and the slaves," he said jovially.

Cassander sighed and then he tried to keep quiet. He patted his horse on the neck and turned to check that he had all of his weapons with him. He wasn't even really sure why he had bothered to check in the first place. He was certain that he hadn't dropped any of his gear on the journey. Nevertheless, he checked and was happy and relieved to see that he had everything with him. He had two javelins, which he would throw at the enemy during a charge, one spear so he could stab the enemy should they come closer, a dagger-like sword and a gloriously decorated shield.

The rain continued to fall. What had once been more or less a simple shower, had now become a complete torrential downpour of water from the Heavens above.

A little yelp was heard. Alexander and Hephaestion craned their necks to see what the noise was. It sounded like a little hurt dog. Then, Hephaestion pointed over to Cassander. "What is it, Cassander?" He asked him, with a confused and amused expression on his handsome face.

"They have elephants," Cassander muttered to the commander of the Companion cavalry.

Hephaestion searched around briefly and he was quick to notice the elephants. "So they do," he said, sounding quite stupefied by the sight.

Alexander, too, was watching the massive animals as they plodded about with little grace. "They truly are magnificent animals," he said, in awe of them.

Hephaestion raised an eyebrow at this. "That, they certainly are," he said, feeling not quite the same as his king was about the huge grey mammals.

Cassander rolled his eyes discreetly. "Yes, but I'm sure they could flatten us quite easily," he murmured.

"Have you ever seen elephants before?" Perdiccas asked Cassander, with a grin on his face.

"As a matter of fact," Cassander replied nobly. "I have, actually."

"Really?" Perdiccas asked him, expecting him to have said 'no'. "When?"

Cassander hung his head out of embarrassment. "Well, I have not really seen them. At least, not like this, anyway."

Perdiccas stared at him and cocked an eyebrow.

"I've only seen them in paintings and sculptures," Cassander replied shyly and Perdiccas rolled his eyes. "I mean, what do you think those…" he paused, thinking of how to describe the elephants. "… things are for?"

"Things?" Perdiccas asked him, confused. "You may have to be a little more specific than that."

Cassander sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He moaned when it flopped back in front of his face.

Leonnatus brushed past them. He regarded Cassander quizzically. "Don't you think you should cut your hair, cassandder? You look Spartan."

Cassander ignored him and then turned his attention back to Perdiccas. He considered how to describe the elephant's trunks. "Their… I don't know what they are. Their… noses?"

Perdiccas let out a low, quick laugh. "You mean trunks?"

"Yes, whatever, trunks. What are they for?"

Hephaestion and Alexander had been talking quietly and were grinning inanely at one another. Hephaestion shrugged his shoulders and went over to Cassander. "Don't you know? They are for sucking whole men dry. Take the blood right from your bones, they will." He looked at Cassander's troubled expression and then returned to Alexander, who slapped him on the back, smiling.

Cassander, meanwhile, had gone quite pale. He looked down at his fingers.

Perdiccas, not being able to put up with the sorry sight, said quietly, "Hephaestion's only fooling around. Elephants, I hear, are quite harmless. It's only because they are controlled by those monkey men that they seem dangerous."

Cassander smiled weakly and nodded. "I hope you're right, Perdiccas."

"Of course I am."

Soon after, the Macedonian army lined up in their feared battle formation along the bank of the Hydaspes River. Alexander had placed his infantry in the middle of the formation, as he usually did. On either of the wings, he had positioned his five-thousand strong cavalry. The very few baggage animals which they had with him were wandering about slowly at the back.

"Phalanx!" Alexander called and he watched expectantly as his foot soldiers began to march slowly and measuredly towards the Indian forces.

He looked around towards his right wing for the archers of the Dahae and ordered them to do their job. They nodded in his general direction and then they all drew back their bows and the enemy army was faced with a shower of falling arrows. Many Indians fell as a result of the pinpoint accuracy of the Macedonian archers.

Coenus, who had been given the command of part of the rest of the cavalry, noticed the undefended right wing of the Indian army and he called for his men to advance upon them with full battle cry. The Indian army was encircled as the cavalry led by Coenus attacked them in the rear.

"We have them!" Hephaestion yelled out to the men behind him, and they all cheered with joy.

Cassander started to pull at the end of the arrow which had just about managed to slip inside of his leg, between his greave and knee. He winced greatly at the immense pain and the arrow head eventually came out with a considerable amount of pulling. He chucked the bloody arrowhead on the ground behind his horse's feet and cursed. The horse neighed and Cassander settled him by patting him on the neck. "Come on, boy," he whispered into the horse's ear. He looked down at his leg and touched the wound. He had blood on his fingers and he wiped it on his tunic.

Perdiccas noticed him and he rode over, before killing an Indian soldier who was about to strike Hephaestion from behind. Hephaestion was too preoccupied with trying to hold back a group of Indian infantry who were attempting to stab him with their menacing curved swords. However, Hephaestion managed to easily subdue them because he trampled them with Ganymede's help.

Perdiccas on his horse, galloped over to Cassander. "You've been injured," he stated as he stared at Cassander's bleeding leg.

Cassander looked up and winced at the pain in his leg. "Damned Indians," he muttered. He reached down to touch his leg.

"Don't keep touching it," Perdiccas said to him in a warning tone of voice. "It will get infected if you do."

Cassander sighed and settled his hands down on his horse's mane. He picked up his sword again and it went right through the neck of an Indian hoplite. The Indian soldier stumbled backwards and fell down onto the muddy, grassy ground. "What do you suggest I do?" Cassander asked Perdiccas.

Once more, Perdiccas studied Cassander's wound. Then he tore off part of his tunic and handed it to Cassander. Tie this around it.

Cassander smoked and thanked him gratefully. Then, he and Perdiccas rode off together and engaged fully with the already struggling Indian cavalry.

"This is more of a killing field than a battle field," On the other side of the river, Hephaestion yelled to his king as they now had the whole of the Indian forces surrounded on all sides. And then, Hephaestion was lost in a crowd of Indian cavalry as they tried to overcome the basically already victorious Macedonian forces. Hephaestion and a group of other Macedonian cavalrymen were being surrounded by an angry group of Indian cavalry.

Alexander cried out as he lost sight of his friend. He stabbed every single Indian that he saw come near to him. He slashed at them angrily with his spear and pushed them from off of their horses with his shield. He threw the astonished Indians off their horses and stabbed those who were already dead, and those that that had been dead since after the very started of the battle. He tried to search for Hephaestion, but there was a mound of dead Indians and the occasional dead Macedonian or two all around him.

In the confusion of blood, swords clashing, shields bumping, men yelling and horses braying and nickering, Alexander was barely able to see anything properly. "Hephaestion!" He called out in desperation. He dismounted Bucephalus and prayed that his horse would be all right when he returned to him. Perdiccas and Cassander were still fighting nearby, which Alexander could see, although it seemed to him as though they were much further away than they really were.

Moments later, the commander of the Indian army, King Porus, surrendered. He had been struck in the leg and the chest. Both of his wounds were bleeding profusely. He stared out with almost empty eyes at the sight of all of his dead men and hung his head. His army was completely and utterly destroyed.

Alexander ran over, trampling the bodies of the Indian soldiers, as he caught sight of the unmistakeable red tunic of the Macedonian military. He pulled off the helmet and saw that it was not Hephaestion. The man was already dead, and he had experienced what looked like massive internal bleeding as a result of a stab wound inflicted by the blunt end of a javelin, which had penetrated his abdomen.

Alexander cried out, "Hephaestion!" But, he got no reply. Then, when he was almost at the point of losing hope, he heard Hephaestion's voice.

"Alexander…" Hephaestion called out feebly.

Alexander ran over in the direction of where the voice was coming from. He noticed Hephaestion immediately and pushed off the body of a fallen Indian soldier, who had landed on top of Hephaestion. The blood were seeping out at great speed from Hephaestion's left thigh. There was a spear stuck in deep above the knee. He thought about pulling it out, but he had learned, from his endless lectures with Aristotle, that the weapon should be left inside the wound. This is because it stops any new infection from getting into the open wound. It could also disrupt any major blood vessels that may happen to be nearby, if the object was moved. So, Alexander said to Hephaestion softly, "Stay here. I will get help."

Hephaestion winced at the tremendous pain which was spreading throughout most of his upper leg. I can't really go anywhere, can I? He thought to himself, annoyed. Then, he looked up into Alexander's eyes. "Don't leave me," he whispered timidly.

Alexander stroked Hephaestion's dark hair. "I'm not going anywhere." Then, he carefully stood up and, as he watched the dead being carted away, he noticed Perdiccas. "Perdiccas!" He yelled at full volume.

Perdiccas frowned, unsure of where the voice was coming from, and then he recognised it as belonging to Alexander. "Sire, what is it?" He called back.

"Get a stretcher!" Alexander called out.

Perdiccas nodded and ran over, along with Peucestas, to bring a stretcher over to where the barely conscious Hephaestion was lying uncomfortable. They picked Hephaestion up and put him on the stretcher, before bringing him to the temporary infirmary, which was still in the process of being set up.

"You're needed, Alexander!" Leonnatus called out to the king.

Alexander looked at his friend and then he closed his eyes and went to follow Leonnatus.

Alexander ran around the infirmary manically. He rushed over to the servant nearby. He gripped him by the neck. "Where is Coenus?" He demanded.

The stunned servant blinked several times and then he recognised that the man speaking to him was in fact his king, who barely looked like himself. There was blood covering the vast majority of his handsome face, although it was not his own blood. "He is…" he stumbled over his words. "I am sorry, my king," he said, his facial expression becoming regretful. "Coenus is dead."

Alexander let his grip on the man's neck go limp and he stumbled backwards. Cassander, who was still nursing his wounded leg, limped over to him. "Sire, what is it?" He asked, as he braced himself for the surely dreadful news that was to come.

Alexander stared at him and then replied simply, "Coenus is dead."

Before Cassander could stop him, the king had brushed passed him. Alexander then went to see more of his wounded soldiers, of which, there were not that many, and he asked how they were and how they sustained their wounds. He then went over to Hephaestion.

"Thank you," Hephaestion said gratefully to Alexander as the king sat down beside the makeshift bed.

Alexander smiled and then he took Hephaestion's hand. "I am just glad you are all right," he said softly.

Perdiccas, meanwhile, was sitting with Cassander, in the other end of the infirmary.


	30. The death of the great horse

CHAPTER 29: 326BC: THE DEATH OF THE GREAT HORSE 766

Suddenly, the ground seemed to fall from underneath him as Bucephalus crossed one leg in front of the other and went wobbly. Alexander gave out a short, shrill yell and he looked around the area in terror.

Perdiccas rode over to him at full pace. "Sire, what is it?" He asked him, with a rather worried look on his attractive face.

Alexander stared at him with almost empty eyes. "I think… Bucephalus may be getting a little tired," he said gently and he patted the large, magnificent horse on the neck firmly. He stroked its mane and sighed quietly.

Perdiccas frowned at him, and then he was forced to make his horse rear up when Bucephalus start to walk all over the place, as if he were drunk and the great horse fell to its knees. Alexander was thrown off of its back and he landed hard on the desert ground.

The army, who had been marching peacefully and wearily behind him, stared in stupor as they watched the almighty animal settle down and they saw their king fall on his backside.

Alexander rubbed his head and then he slowly got back onto his feet. He rushed over to Bucephalus, who was now in a sitting down sort of position. Then, Hephaestion, Perdiccas and Cassander all dismounted their steeds and they went over to where the king was. Alexander crawled over to his fallen stallion and knelt down beside him. "Bucephalus?" He whispered.

Perdiccas signalled for the steadily advancing army behind him to stop moving, and they quickly obeyed his order and did so.

Alexander stroked the horse's mane. "Boy," he said softly. "What is it? What's wrong?" He whispered again.

The horse's eyes met with the kings. Bucephalus whinnied and then his horse fell to the ground. It neighed uncomfortably.

"Come on, boy," Alexander said softly, with the desperation easily detectible in his voice. "Get up," he said. "You can do it, boy."

Hephaestion ignored Cassander's pleas to leave the king alone, and he hunkered down alongside Alexander. "He was old," Hephaestion said softly as he stared at the pitiful animal.

"Is," Alexander said to Hephaestion angrily, correcting him. "He's not gone," he said softly. "He can't…" He sniffed and a tear fell from his eye. "He was fine at Hydaspes. He was the finest horse there."

Hephaestion pulled the king into his arms caringly. "You can see, look," he said softly as he pointed to Bucephalus nose. "The grey hairs, there. He is old, Alexander."

Sure enough, just below that little white star which was in between Bucephalus; now lowered ears, there were tiny grey hairs. Alexander sighed and he wiped his eyes. He patted the fallen horse's neck and waited for the animal to settle down. The horse wheezed and then its breathing began to get a little quieter, before the chest stopped rising and it fell one last time. The horse's eyes flickered and then closed.

Alexander breathed out heavily and composed himself. He then got to his feet. He ordered that one of the chariots which the Macedonians had commandeered from King Porus and his once mighty army be brought over to the front. There, he ordered that his most powerful men hoist the body of Bucephalus onto the back of the chariot.

"What are you going to do with Bucephalus?" Hepahestion asked the king gently.

Alexander, who was now riding atop one of the horses whom they had gained as spoils of war from the Indian army. The horse was a grand stallion, but it was not quite as big as Bucephalus was. The horse was light brown and was about the same size as Hephaestion's horse, Ganymede. He looked over at his friend, after realising that he had been asked a question. "Bury him," Alexander replied simply.

Hephaestion nodded in acceptance. Then, he looked at his own horse for a while, thinking how lucky he was that Ganymede was still alive and well. "What's that horse called?" He asked as he gestured to the new horse that Alexander was riding.

Alexander shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure if the Indians give names to their animals," he replied. If he strained his eyes, he could just about see their camp.

"It's a male, by the way," Hephaestion said, after looking down.

Alexander smiled and said, "I know, Hephaestion." He thought for a while and then decided, "I'll call him Xanthus."

"Like Achilles' horse?" Hephaestion asked curiously.

Smiling, Alexander replied, "Yes."

"Then," he said with a smile. "I presume that makes you Achilles?"

The king nodded. "And, you are Patroclus."


	31. The weddings at Susa

CHAPTER 30: 324BC: THE WEDDINGS AT SUSA 980

"I wonder how Roxana will take it," Cassander said to Perdiccas as they sipped their wine.

Perdiccas grinned and then gave his shoulders a little shrug. "She has been quite content with Bagoas and Hephaestion," he replied. "So, I don't see any reason why she wouldn't be all right with this," he then said logically, as he finished off his answer.

The young Cassander nodded agreeably. "I suppose so," he said, accepting Perdiccas' answer. "And, I should not complain, should I?" He then asked Perdiccas as a grin crept slowly across his handsome face.

Perdiccas looked at him and smiled through thin lips. "No, you shouldn't," he replied simply and to the point.

Hephaestion came to sit with them. He sat down on the seat next to Cassander. "Is it just me, or has Alexander been acting strange recently?" He asked the both of them.

Cassander and Perdiccas exchanged confused and ever so slightly amused looks with each other. "What makes you say that?" Perdiccas finally asked Hephaestion, after a few minutes of rather uncomfortable silence had passed them on by.

Hephaestion sighed almost noiselessly. "Well," he began quietly. "His temper, for a start, is really changing."

Cassander raised a brown eyebrow. "In what way?" He asked Hephaestion for the clarification, as he really did not have much of an idea as to what exactly Hephaestion was talking about.

"He has ordered the deaths of many officials," Hephaestion said warily.

Cassander leant forward, being quite interested by Hephaestion's words. "He has?" He asked, being slightly shocked and confused at this revelation.

Hephaestion glanced at him quickly and then he nodded sullenly. "Abulites and his son Ozathres, they have both been arrested and killed at Alexander's order."

"Oh," Cassander said quietly, in a voice which indicated that he was actually a little disappointed with what Hephaestion had just said to him and Perdiccas. "Is that it?" He asked, frowning a little.

"No, no," Hephaestion said quickly, putting him straight. "There have been more. Or, at least, that is what Alexander had told me."

Perdiccas, who had been sitting there quietly for quite a while, rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. He was considering what Hephaestion had just said to the both of them. "This certainly does not seem like the sort of thing that Alexander would do," he said, as he continued to muse over what Hephaestion had just told them.

Hephaestion shook his head gravely. "No, it does not," he said, agreeing with Perdiccas' judgement. "He's been acting even more cold towards Roxana," he then added. "Even with Bagoas."

"And…" Cassander said, with his voice dropping to only a very slight wisher. "You?" He asked, his voice almost silent.

Hephaestion hung his head. He wasn't really sure whether or not the army knew about him and the king, but this made it quite clear to him. Barely even giving himself time enough to think about the matter, Hephaestion shook his head sadly. "Yes, and me. He is neglecting those around him," he said solemnly.

"He still continues with his duties though," Perdiccas muttered, with the slight intention of trying to lighten the dull mood which was fully under way.

Cassander and Hephaestion nodded.

"Anyway," Cassander said, changing the subject. "What about these weddings?"

"I can't say I am too happy about it," Hephaestion said with an unsure look on his face.

"Neither can I," Perdiccas said simply. "I've never been married."

Cassander laughed. "Have you not?" He asked him, astonished.

Perdiccas shook his head. "No. Why is that so hard to believe?"

Cassander shook his head and shrunk back slightly. He was embarrassed.

"It's not the fact that we must be married which is troubling me," Hephaestion said worriedly. "It is the fact that our wives will be Persian."

Perdiccas sighed and thought of the beautiful Persian women. "Oh well. It's not like we can complain, is it?"

The army was in Susa, a city in Persia. Alexander and his army had been granted the grounds and walls of the greatest and most splendid of all of the palaces in Susa. He did not even need to ask, because Alexander was given whatever it was that he desired by the Persian peoples.

"I trust you will marry the most important of all the women?" Hephaestion asked Alexander, hoping that the king had calmed down after ordering the arrest and execution of quite a few Persian officials.

Alexander looked at him and nodded. "And, you will marry the second," he said with a smile.

Alexander and eighty of his highest ranking generals and commanders were walking into the room in which the weddings were to take place. Alexander himself sat in the centre of the magnificently decorated room, with Hephaestion to his right. Alexander was to marry the most influential and powerful of all of the women, the eldest daughter of the late King Darius, Stateira. Hephaestion was to marry the sister of Stateira, called Drypetis. He had wanted his and Hephaestion's children, should they have any, to be related by blood.

To Perdiccas, a daughter of Atropates, satrap of Media. To Craterus he gave Amastrine the daugher of Oxyartes, Darius' brother.

Ptolemy, his bodyguard, and Eumenes, the royal secretary, married the daughters of Artabazus, Artacama and Artonis respectively. Nearchus married the daughter of Barsine and Mentor; Seleucus the daughter of Spitamenes from Bactria, and likewise the other Companions married the noblest daughters of the Medes and the Persians.

These marriages were conducted according to Persian custom. Thrones were put out for the bridegrooms in turn, and after they had drunk, the brides came and sat next to their bridegroom.

When the right time came, as was common with Persian custom, Alexander held his bride's right hand and kissed her. The rest of the companions then did the same.

The atmosphere in the room was very relaxed, but there was no love. Alexander had given each of the bridegrooms their own dowries.


	32. The mutiny at Opis

CHAPTER 31: 324BC: THE MUTINY AT OPIS 730

Leonnatus had enjoyed being one of the Diadochi of King Alexander of Macedonia and he had relished the feeling of having the being king proud of him, but now, he wanted nothing more than to return home. He had, like so many of the senior officers of Alexander, married a Persian woman at the mass weddings at Susa, but he did not love the woman. He had his own Macedonian wife back in Pella, but he had not seen her since he joined Alexander's campaign, which was twelve years ago. He had a son, Aristeides and a daughter, Berenike. "They were just born when I left," he muttered to Cassander.

"You'll be home soon," Cassander said to him helpfully, trying to sound happy, although he was not really sure what exactly it was that Leonnatus was referring to.

Leonnatus looked at him and sighed noiselessly. "I hope you are right."

"Alexander is still a man," Cassander said, smiling thinly. "And, no matter how much he likes to think he is a god, he will always be a man. So, he will get tired."

Leonnatus laughed quietly. "I suppose so," he said, still feeling a little unsure about what Cassander had said. "But, how can you be sure that he will? He will surely never tire from battle. I'm starting to think that's all he is fond of." He dropped his head glumly.

"What do you mean?" Cassander asked him.

"Well, every second of our lives, we are fighting and dying for him. Still he will not be content. He will not stop until he has the entire world under his control and the gods trembling in fear," Leonnatus explained to him.

Cassander nodded. "Ah," he said softly. "Then, I'm sure he can be persuaded. He can hardly ignore our wants to go home if it is the entire army," he then added, with a slight sneer.

"We cannot do that!" Leonnatus snapped back at him angrily.

Cassander smiled and raised his hands up in submission. "I have not yet said anything."

"I know what you mean," Leonnatus said. "A mutiny."

Cassander looked at him and grinned. "If you want to see your wife and children soon, then why could we not organise a mutiny?"

Leonnatus considered this very carefully. He looked judgingly at Cassander and then he nodded very slowly, in agreement with him, although he was sure that it was the wrong thing to do.

News had reached Hephaestion of the planned mutiny, but he had not really believed it. He had, nevertheless, informed Alexander of it. "I'm sorry, sire," Hephaestion said sadly to his king/

Alexander looked at him and then snapped, "Don't call me sire. It makes me feel old."

Hephaestion frowned. "I am older than you," he said, smiling.

"By a year," Alexander clarified.

"Anyway, what would you rather I call you?" Hephaestion inquired.

"By my name," Alexander replied.

Hephaestion nodded, accepting. "Very well," he said firmly. "I am sorry, Alexander. I had not anticipated this."

"I suppose… it was inevitable," Alexander said sullenly.

"But, the army has such love for you, Alexander," Hephaestion said softly, as he walked over to the king. "Are you not going to punish those involved? I have heard it to be Cassander's idea."

Alexander sat down, and Hephaestion sat beside him. "It was to be expected, was it not?" Alexander asked him.

Hephaestion frowned, but didn't say anything in answer to Alexander's question.

"One cannot blame Cassander. He is angry because of Philotas and Callisthenes," Alexander said simply.

"That was years ago!" Hephaestion reminded him. "This is treason."

"Yes, but there are others involved, are there not? I can hardly execute the entire army, can I?" Alexander replied.

Hephaestion rubbed his temples in frustration. "I understand," he said, controlling himself. "But…" he droned off and dropped his hands onto his laps.

"Do you not want to go home?" Alexander asked his friend.

Hephaestion looked at him. "Of course I do."

"Then, maybe Cassander is right. Maybe I have gone too far," Alexander said simply.

Just as Hephaestion had warned him, there was a mutiny within the next few coming days, although it was not very purposeful because Alexander had announced to them that they would be leaving to return to Macedonia within a couple of months. He had not promised them that they would be leaving immediately though. Alexander paid his best veterans large sums of money to stay in his service, and, with the promise of riches and glory beyond even their wildest dreams, most agreed to stay serving.


	33. The Olympic Games

CHAPTER 32: 324BC: THE OLYMPIC GAMES 573

Alexander took in the sight. It was one of the most beautiful spectacles which had ever befallen his fortunate eyes. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of Greek citizens all sat around the arena and all of their heads were turned towards one person. And, that one person was him. He felt his heart beat so quickly and with such force that he even feared that it may very well leap out of his chest. He delicately bent down and got into the starting position. Beside him, three other runners were doing the same. Two of them were kings of nearby empires. The other was Hephaestion, the son of a Macedonian nobleman and Alexander's greatest friend.

The signal was given and the four men set off. The race was quite long. It required the athletes to run a distance of three miles, which meant around twenty laps of the track. The race was called the dolichos. Hephaestion was running off ahead of the three other competitors. However, Alexander, hearing the roars of the crowd bellowing his name, managed to pick up his speed. He was not running at the same speed as Hephaestion. Hephaestion looked over his shoulder to see Alexander running just a few feet, if that, behind him. He smiled at the thought of beating his king. The two other royal competitors were starting to lag behind. For, they had set off at the start of the race at full speed. They were beginning to run out of breath, as well as energy.

Alexander powered his way down the track. He could feel his calves beginning to burn and his thighs were actually starting lock. He winced at the unpleasant feeling, before managing to gather up his speed until he was running just a little bit faster than Hephaestion. Hephaestion began to lag behind. The warm desert air was drying up his mouth and he tried to generate some saliva in his mouth to quench his thirst.

They had run a distance of just under the required three miles and, in his head, Hephaestion found that he was counting down the final metres. The final stretch was definitely the hardest.

Alexander realised that Hephaestion was quickly beginning to catch up with him. And so, ignoring the burning sensation which was beginning to slowly consume his entire lower body, he hurtled past Hephaestion and crossed the finishing line first. Less than a few seconds later, Hephaestion ran over the line and, around ten seconds later, the other two kings reached the end of the race. One of them had collapsed, for he was not really a fit individual in the first place.

Hephaestion walked over to the king of Macedonia and said to him, "Congratulations, sire."

Alexander thanked him and then coughed. He bent down slightly and breathed the air into his lungs. Both of his legs were aching terribly, as were Hephaestion's. "You ran very well," Alexander said.

"Thank you," Hephaestion said. Most people would have added 'my lord' onto the end of the sentence, but Hephaestion knew that he didn't have to and Alexander wasn't bothered by this in the slightest.

"I shall not be doing that again," Alexander said. He spoke in between heavy breaths.

Hephaestion smiled and let out a short laugh. "It is only yet the first say of the Olympics, Alexander," he reminded him.

Alexander nodded. "Maybe I will just compete in the wrestling tomorrow."


	34. Hephaestion's fever

CHAPTER 33: 324BC: HEPHAESTION'S FEVER 6547

Although the Olympics were now over, the people of Babylon had been so impressed by them that they were actually holding their own mini event. Alexander had chosen to compete in the discus and had won. Because of his victory, the crowd was cheering for him to try it again, so he did.

Oh, why, why, did I have to be so stupid? Alexander thought to himself with great annoyance. Why did I chose to compete? I have wasted yet more time! That was when he had gotten the news from the senate of Babylon.

It was awful news. In fact, it was the worse news he had ever gotten in his entire life. It was worse than the moment when he actually witnessed his father being stabbed to death by his very own personal bodyguard. He stormed through the courtyard and then ran down the many spacious corridors. He and his men had only been at Babylon for a few days, maybe even a week. Therefore, he had not been briefed properly on the entire layout of the place. However, being a man of such high courage and determination, he quickly began to figure it out.

While on his brisk walk, he noticed someone walking towards him. He frowned and tried to recognise the face. After looking at the man for a short while longer, he realised who it was.

"Alexander?" The voice called out to him.

The king walked over to the man and regarded him.

The man continued, "I presume you have heard?"

Alexander nodded sorrowfully and sighed heavily. "I have, indeed," he replied simply. He tried hard not to let his emotions get the better of him. "Medias, is this matter crucial?" He asked urgently.

Medias shook his head and put his arm around the king. "Not for some. But, for others, of such high drive and passion, such as yourself, I am sure it will prove… interesting."

Alexander didn't say anything in response. Instead, he simply nodded and allowed for Medias to continue with what it was that he was saying.

And so, Medias carried on talking. "Craterus and I, we have become aware of an..." he paused to think of a word to continue with. "Event."

"An event?" Alexander asked him quizzically.

Medias nodded his head. "Precisely. There will be sports, drinking and… women."

Alexander shrugged the man's arm off of his shoulder. "How can you think of such things, when there are so many other pressing matters to attend to?" He shot back at Medias.

Medias, being basically lost for words, just remained silent and waited patiently and respectfully for his king to talk.

"Hephaestion's fever would not have arisen had it not been for you and your infernal appetite for wine!" Alexander shouted at him

Medias wanted the king to be quiet. They were standing there, arguing very loudly, in the middle of a very busy corridor. A few generals and politicians had wandered by and stopped in their tracks briefly, in order to see what exactly was going on. Among them were Cassander and Iolas. They had been talking about nothing in particular when Iolas had pointed out the argument to Cassander. Cassander, who had never really liked Alexander much, ever since his introduction of so many Persian customs, quite fancied the idea of seeing the king being humiliated and annoyed. He stood by Iolas and the pair watched intently.

Medias answered slowly, watching what it was that he said, "I am sorry, my king. But, I just thought you would appreciate the ability to relax after so much work campaigning."

Alexander shook his head. He wasn't having any of this. "I do not want to relax. How can I possibly relax?" He questioned him

"I am sorry, O king," Medias apologised again.

Alexander, after deciding that he had no more time for this petty conversation, just left Medias standing where he was. He noticed Iolas and Cassander. The two had tried to hide behind a pillar, but they were too slow and Alexander obviously noticed them. "Why are you two not attending to you duties?" He asked them dominantly.

Iolas shrunk back, so Cassander realised that he was the one to answer Alexander's question. "Our apologies, sire. We will attend to them now."

The king had no time to argue or to press that matter any further than it already had been. So, he walked away from them as quickly as he had gotten to them. He passed a few more corridors, before he came to the correct one.

Alexander felt the tears starting to form behind his eyes. His throat was caught and he could barely even manage to speak. He swallowed hard and fast and then blinked several times. He walked briskly into the chambers in which Hephaestion lay. His best friend and most trusted general had been taken ill with some sort of a fever.

Finally, Alexander gathered up his strength and walked into the room. The sight with which he was greeted was most tragic. He made his way over to the bed which Hephaestion was reclining on and, for a moment, he just simply stood before his ailing friend.

Alexander sat down on the bed and looked at his friend. Hephaestion's lips were pale and dry and his skin was ghostly white.

Hephaestion must have felt the bed dip slightly when Alexander sat down because his eyes opened. They flickered and looked around the room before focusing on the king.

"I did not mean to wake you," Alexander spoke apologetically as he sat staring at his loyal friend.

Hephaestion just about managed to smile. "I do not mind."

"I am sorry that I did not come sooner," Alexander said, sounding truly sorry for it.

Hephaestion was just about able to show a brief smile. "You are king. You have many duties to attend to," he said, understanding Alexander's lateness.

"No, I shouldn't have competed in the Olympics," he said simply. He looked down glumly at the floor.

"There is no reason why you should sacrifice that for me," Hephaestion said.

Alexander, however, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hephaestion."

"You are fantastic at athletics, Alexander. You have thwarted my achievements far more times than I could even dare to count," Hephaestion said with a short but meaningful chuckle. "You are, by far, the most talented at discus, wrestling and in the chariot race."

Alexander smiled at his friend. "That is kind of you, but it does not make it right that I should abandon you."

"You did not abandon me, Alexander," Hephaestion said. "You did not know that I was ill."

Alexander shook his head. "I did not, no," he admitted.

"Well, then there is no reason for you to feel bad," Hephaestion said happily.

Alexander wanted to change the subject. He quickly swallowed hard again and then spoke softly, "It pains me to know that there is nothing I can do."

Hephaestion managed to get himself into a seated position and replied, "Alexander, do not worry for me."

"I do, though, Hephaestion. I must," Alexander responded defiantly.

Hephaestion glanced down at the bed and then at his friend again. "What will happen will happen. There is no way to change the course of events."

Alexander stifled a cry and took one of Hephaestion's hands and placed it in between his. "I will move heaven and earth for you, Hephaestion."

"You must find a way to move on," Hephaestion said carefully. "You have the campaign to continue and the passage through India."

"You mean more to me than my kingdom," Alexander said honestly. "I will not sacrifice our friendship for Macedonia."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said loudly as he squeezed Alexander's hand tightly. "I will never leave you."

Alexander was not convinced. "You will though. I will have the doctor strung up for not staying true to his word. You are ill and I do understand that."

Hephaestion shook his head, painfully. "No, Alexander. I will always be with you. I will be with you in here." He touched Alexander's chest gently, where his heart was located.

Alexander looked down at Hephaestion's hand resting on his chest and smiled. It was both a smile of happiness and a smile of sadness. He felt a tear slip down past his cheek. He didn't think to catch it. "Don't leave me," he whispered softly.

"The time will come when I must," Hephaestion reminded him, speaking gravely and he sniffed.

"Aristotle advised me to read the Iliad," Alexander said bluntly.

Hephaestion nodded and smiled briefly.

Alexander stopped and then continued, "The verse in which Patroclus meets his fate, I could not read without my emotions overwhelming me."

"I understand, Alexander. But... this is not the Iliad. This is real," Hephaestion pointed out.

"Now I feel how Achilles felt during that moment. I don't want you to leave, Hephaestion. I would come with you if I could. I-"

Hephaestion cut him short as he could see where it was that Alexander was going with this conversation, "No, you mustn't."

Alexander was about to say something but could find no words which he saw fit to leave his mouth and so remained silent.

"Macedonia needs its king," Hephaestion stated.

"Oh, Hephaestion, I do not care. Why do the gods treat you in this way?" He asked, confused and terrified.

Hephaestion thought long and hard about how to answer that question. "It is the will of the gods, and so, their will must be fulfilled."

"I don't care about that gods. I am a god!" Alexander yelled the proclamation. He felt his face start to get red-hot and he was beginning to sweat a little.

Hephaestion wondered whether or not he should say something. When Alexander was talking of being a deity there was not much hope of conversing with him properly. "Alex-"

Alexander looked at his friend. He put his head in his hands and sniffed slightly. He rubbed his face and braced himself for what he might see when he looked at Hephaestion again. He thought he may see his condition starting to worsen.

However, it stayed the same. Alexander sighed a sigh of relief. "I am sorry," he said.

Just at that moment, a maid walked into the room and, in her hands, she was carrying a damp cloth. Alexander proffered his hand out to her and she handed the cloth over to him. He looked at her kindly and she curtseyed before leaving as quickly as she had entered.

Alexander felt the cold, wet cloth against his fingers and then pressed it to Hephaestion's forehead. He held it there before taking it away and turning it over to repeat the action again and again.

"Thank you," Hephaestion said gratefully as he savoured the wonderful feeling that the cold towel pressed against his boiling hot head provided him.

"Do not thank me, Hephaestion," Alexander said kindly. "You do not owe me anything."

Hephaestion was quiet.

"Hopefully, you should feel a little better now," Alexander said. He took the towel away and placed it on a nearby table.

Hephaestion smiled. "I do."

"My care for you is stronger than my care for others. Do not leave me," Alexander stated.

"Whatever happens, you will not be alone. You will have Roxana and your mother," Hephaestion said trying to be helpful.

"You are my only true friend, Hephaestion. You are the one I love most."

"And," Hephaestion began slowly and delicately, "Bagoas."

Alexander was annoyed. "Bagoas?"

Hephaestion looked sad and nodded solemnly. He was, in a way, jealous of Bagoas. Although he did not like to admit it. Bagoas was the Persian dancer who Alexander had acquired from Darius after the great king's death.

"My feelings for Bagoas are not true," Alexander said quietly. "He is property. He is not my friend or my family or... my lover. Don't ever think that."

"I try, Alexander. I try," Hephaestion said slowly. "But, when I am gone, he will be here to comfort you."

"I do not want his comfort. I want you. I want you to stay here. My love for you is..." He drained off and looked at his friend expectantly.

"And I you, but there comes a time when that love must end."

"I don't want it to end," Alexander said as the tears, once again, started to burn the backs of his eyes.

Hephaestion took both of the king's hands into his and held them tightly. Almost too tightly. "Promise me one thing, Alexander," he said softly.

Alexander leaned forward and listened intently to what his friend had to say.

However, Hephaestion suddenly began to feel faint and his eyelids flickered. Alexander saw this and exclaimed, "What is it? Hephaestion?"

He moved back on the bed and helped Hephaestion to lie down again. Hephaestion let out a loud and painful sounding groan and coughed. "Hephaestion?" Alexander asked again nervously.

Hephaestion opened his eyes slowly and refocused his line of sight at Alexander. "I felt a little faint."

"Would you like another cold towel? To sooth your temperature?" Alexander asked, trying to help in any way he can.

Hephaestion let loose a short moan from his lips and Alexander presumed that it meant that he needed another towel. Alexander picked up the towel and pressed it gently and carefully onto Hephaestion's forehead.

Hephaestion allowed a small smile to form on his lips. Looking at his king, he could tell that he was expecting something. Then, he remembered it and picked up where he left off, "Promise me you will be content when I am gone."

"I can't-" Alexander stuttered.

"Please, Alexander. Promise me."

Alexander looked at his friend's troubled expression. He couldn't bear to see the pain on it any longer. "You... have my word."

Alexander turned his head and his ears almost happened to prick up. He looked over at the door and realised that someone was entering. The door opened slowly and with a slight squeak, and a woman walked inside. It was his wife, Roxana. She had an expression of worry and dread and almost anger written all over her beautiful face.

Alexander frowned as she came a little closer. "Roxana?" He asked her gingerly.

She shook her head and sighed heavily. "Alexander, I am fearful for you," she admitted.

He cocked his head to one side, being confused. "Why would you be?" He asked her.

She was careful to watch what she was about to say. Hephaestion was the king's closest and most trusted friend, she couldn't possibly dishonour him. Nevertheless, she felt that she need to speak what was on her mind. "I fear you may be too focused on Hephaestion," she paused and looked at Hephaestion, who was on the bed, moaning. "And, that you are…" she stopped for a short while, so that she could think of the right word. "Neglecting your duties as king."

"You are not king," he said simply. "You have no knowledge of how difficult holding down that title can be." His tone of voice suddenly change; it got angrier. "Do not lecture me!" He said stridently and defensibly.

She bowed her head slightly, trying to show her respect for both him and for Hephaestion alike. "I understand, but…"

"Leave us," Alexander said bluntly.

She started forward, but Alexander had already raised his hand. And, as far as she was concerned, that signalled the end of the conversation. "Alexander, I worry for you," she said, regardless.

"It is not me who you should be worrying about," Alexander responded gravely.

She didn't say anything in response.

He shook his head, not wanting to say anything about it in front of Hephaestion. He didn't want to leave Hephaestion either. So, he walked over to Roxana and said to her slowly, "Hephaestion is…" he composed himself and the carried on. "…ill. Can you not see that?"

"No, no," she said. "I do understand, but you need to understand that Macedonia needs you." She blinked and then said, "I need you."

He wanted to say something to her, to comfort her. But, he had other things to worry about. She was alive and well, it was Hephaestion who was ill. "I appreciate that, but, all I request now, is to be left alone."

She nodded solemnly but didn't reply. She didn't even hug him or kiss him goodbye. She just simply left.

Alexander sighed heavily before going back to sit near the bed.

Hephaestion looked up at him and said softly, "If you wish to attend to her, then I do not mind."

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I would rather stay here with you. I am sorry if Roxana disturbed you."

Hephaestion replied delicately, "No, she is your wife. You should not have to apologise." He hated referring to Roxana as his 'wife'. He was jealous of her. For, her and Alexander's relationship was very public, but his and Alexander's was not. It couldn't possibly be, not in front of Roxana. On the one hand, he felt that he wanted desperately for Roxana and Alexander to end their relationship, but, on the other, he wasn't sure if that was what he wanted. He knew that Alexander did care for Roaxana and, whether or not it was love or not, Hephaestion did not know for certain. Regardless, Alexander would be heartbroken if their marriage did come to an end. At least, that was what Hephaestion thought. He wasn't sure if it were true.

"Don't ever think I love you any less because of my marriage to Roxana," Alexander said gently.

"I do not," Hephaestion said slowly. "At least," he began after a few moments. "I try not to."

Alexander sighed rather pitifully and said softly, "Do not, Hephaestion. It is you and you alone, who I trust and who I care for the most."

"And, I equally," he said.

"More than Macedonia, more than Roxana, more than Bagoas, more than mother," Alexander continued with his explanation.

"Alexander…" Hephaestion began slowly, but promptly stopped once he realised that the king was about to say something else.

Alexander continued, saying softly, "You must understand that I married Roxana with the thoughts of politics in mind."

"But, you love her," Hephaestion stated.

Alexander shook his head and said simply, "I do not know if I do, or if I do not." He didn't want to continue with this subject and so, he scanned the room quickly, for no real reason, and then looked at Hephaestion.

Hephaestion smiled and then reached out his slender hand and Alexander took it gratefully. He kissed it and held onto it tightly. He pulled the untidy strands of now matted hair out of Hephaestion's face. He wanted to be able to look upon his perfectly sculpted features once again. The strong cheekbones, the cerulean eyes, the brown hair and the strong neck. "We are so different and yet so alike," Alexander observed.

Hephaestion let loose short chuckle. "You are the magnanimous one; the leader."

"And yet you are so full of compassion," Alexander added. "I would not be such a good leader if I did not have you at my side."

Hephaestion tried to smile but his already dry lips were beginning to crack and it was almost to painful to talk too much. He reached his hand up to run his mouth and Alexander noticed his discomfort. He placed the cloth to Hephaestion's lips.

"I would like to give you something," Alexander said suddenly.

Hephaestion, being slightly confused, cocked his head to one side. "What is it?" He asked Alexander curiously.

The king didn't answer him but, instead, he said to his friend, "I will have to leave you for a short while."

Hephaestion nodded, understanding.

Alexander was still for a moment. He was not sure whether or not he was certain if leaving Hephaestion was the right thing to do. However, he wanted to do something so greatly that he managed to overcome his worries. He looked at Hephaestion quickly and then made his way towards the door. He walked briskly down the corridor and found the door which led into his and Roxana's chambers. He walked over to the bed and picked up the pillow. He lifted up the book which was now on display and stared at it for a while. He wrapped it in his arms and then walked out of his chambers. He almost collided with a number of people on his way. However, in spite of all the things on his mind, he never forgot to apologise when he did actually walk into someone.

Alexander went back into the room in which Hephaestion was lying and sat back down on the bed. Hephaestion's eyes had been closed, but as soon as Alexander had entered again, his face seemed to light up. Hephaestion craned his neck, so as to see what exactly it was that Alexander was holding in his arms. He relaxed his neck once alexander handed the book over to him.

"Alexander, this is yours," Hephaestion observed as he looked at the front cover of the book. It was in near perfect condition, despite its age.

Alexander smiled and replied, "I know, but I would like you to have it."

Hephaestion opened the book so that it was in the first page. "You have had this since before I even met you. I cannot accept it," he said.

"No, I want you to have it," Alexander responded.

Hephaestion nodded uncertainly and began to read the first lines.

"This is my favourite book," Alexander said.

"I have never read it, I don't think," Hephaestion admitted, feeling a little ashamed with himself.

"Then, you can read it now," Alexander suggested logically.

"We can read it," Hephaestion corrected him.

Alexander smiled and read the first verse:

"Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus' son Achilleus

and its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians,

hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls

of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting

of dogs, of all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished

since that time when first there stood in division of conflict

Atreus' son the lord of men and brilliant Achilleus. . . ."

When Alexander had finished his sentence, Hephaestion closed the book and Alexander frowned. "Are you not going to continue?" He asked.

Hephaestion shook his head. "Alexander, I don't want to read on."

"Why not?" The tone of Alexander's voice clearly denoted his disappointment.

"Because, I don't want to read the verse in which Achilles dies."

"Oh," Alexander exclaimed simply.

Hephaestion frowned and then said to his king, "I'm sorry, Alexander."

Alexander smiled. He was about to take the Iliad from Hephaestion, so that he could put it on the table where it wouldn't be in the way. However, Hephaestion stopped him from doing so, saying, "But, I would still like to keep it with me."

Alexander nodded and smiled gratefully. "Then, that is how it shall be," he said, agreeably.

Hephaestion put the Iliad on the other side of the bed and coughed.

"Are you in pain?" Alexander asked him nervously.

"I am," Hephaestion replied simply.

Alexander shook his head. "You'll be fine, though," he said. "I'm sure."

"Alexander, you are ignoring the truth. My time has come and you have to accept it," Hephaestion said bluntly.

Alexander shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "I may accept it but I will not be able to live on."

"Alex-" Hephaestion began slowly.

Alexander cut him off. "No matter what you say, Hephaestion, I won't forget you. I won't stop loving you."

"And I, you," Hephaestion said softly.

"Sometimes, Hephaestion," Alexander began slowly, changing the subject. "I feel that I envy you."

Hephaestion couldn't help but raise an eyebrow a little at that.

Alexander noticed his friend's confused expression. So, he explained it further. "You have such enviable hair," he stroked his friend's hair, "and your eyes..."

Hephaestion laughed slightly.

Alexander smiled broadly and, for one tiny moment, he almost forgot about the severity of his friend's illness.

Hephaestion continued, "Your hair is of a most beautiful shade." He looked at Alexander's golden locks as they reflected the light of the room. "And you, Alexander, you have eyes like no other."

Alexander cocked his head a little. He had always thought it was a little odd that one of his eyes was blue and the other was brown.

"One is as dark as the night, whereas the other is as bright as the day; as bright as the heavens..." Hephaestion trailed off slightly, almost losing his place for a moment.

Once again, Alexander laughed. It was both a laugh of happiness and pleasure, as well as one of sadness and concern.

"You are the one who leads thousands of men into battle, and who has always been victorious," Hephaestion reminded him.

Alexander replied, "Yes, but it is you, Hephaestion, who aided me with my struggles, both political and personal."

Hephaestion shrugged a little. "I want to say thank you," he said after a short while.

"What for?" Alexander asked him, quizzically.

"For being here," Hephaestion replied to him simply.

"I will always be here, Hephaestion. You have filled my life with love, and for that reason, it is I who should be thankful."

Alexander paused and then bent down and kissed Hephaestion on the forehead. His forehead was hot. It was burning up and Alexander almost actually burnt his lips. Hephaestion looked at Alexander as his friend's head drew ever closer. He thought about how he would miss Alexander's smile, his laugh. Alexander, it seemed, had had the same thoughts. "I think, I will miss your smile the most, Hephaestion," he said.

"And I yours," Hephaestion added, smiling as broadly as he could manage.

Hephaestion remained in the seating position and stared around the room. It was ornately decorated but, in spite of all of the many riches that were scattered around him, he wanted nothing more to be back home in Macedonia. Although, he knew deep down that that was not possible. His gaze shifted upwards, in the direction of Alexander. Taking in all of the king's wonderful features; his magical eyes, his straight nose; his broad smile and his golden hair; Hephaestion now remembered why he was glad for being the Patroclus to Alexander's Achilles.

Alexander saw both the joy and the sadness written on Hephaestion's face and thought for a moment. He was thinking about a number of many things. In his mind were thoughts of the voyage to India, his marriage to Roxana and, strangely, the death of Cleitus the Black.

Hephaestion somehow noticed the thoughtful expression on Alexander's face. "What is it?" He asked, between short coughs.

Alexander was almost in some kind of trance-like state and had to gather his thoughts before replying. "It is nothing important."

Hephaestion had known Alexander too long for him to simply believe that rather poor excuse, and Alexander knew this, so he explained, "It may seem without relevance, but my thoughts were for Cleitus."

"Cleitus?" Hephaestion echoed, a little confused by this.

Alexander shook his head and sighed. "I don't know why, Hephaestion. Now I see you lying here, I find myself thinking about Cleitus and Parmenio..." he found himself trailing off.

"If it is making you upset, Alexander, do not allow those thoughts to cross your mind," Hephaestion advised him carefully.

"I must though," Alexander said, sounding and feeling frustrated. "If it weren't for me, they would not have died." He looked glumly at the dull wooden floor of the room.

Hephaestion wanted to offer his friend some sort of comfort, but he couldn't find any words to say, so he remained silent.

"It is because of my actions, my foolishness, that they are no longer with us. I have killed them and now... and now..." he droned off, losing his train if thoughts.

"Alexander..." Hephaestion began delicately.

The king somewhat composed himself. "I can't lose you as well, Hephaestion. Although, I would not place the blame on you if you did."

"I would never want to leave you," Hephaestion argued defiantly. "There is nothing I want more than to stay here with you. To keep fighting, to keep living with you."

Alexander sighed and shook his head. "I know, I am sorry," he said slowly.

Hephaestion just smiled.

Alexander looked at his friend and then said depressingly, "Oh, how I wish the gods would change their minds."

"They can't," Hephaestion said simply and logically.

The king nodded his head and his heart sunk. "I know."

Hephaestion opened his arms a little and Alexander allowed him to embrace him. Hephaestion held him tightly and Alexander found that he was savouring the moment. Hephaestion, too, was doing the same. The sounds, the smells, the sight, he would never experience again. And, he knew that. That was what upset him worst of all. A tear fell from his eye. He couldn't hold it back; it was burning. He sniffed and tried to keep quiet, but, to his dismay, Alexander had heard. Alexander pulled himself away from the embrace and looked at Hephaestion. His cheek was shining as a result of the tears. His eyes were even redder than they had been earlier on. "What is it?" The king asked cautiously, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"I will miss you, Alexander," Hephaestion said sadly.

"And, I you," Alexander added. He pulled Hephaestion back into the embrace and whispered gently, "I will meet forget you, though."

Hephaestion smiled broadly, even though it pained him to do so. "I will never forget you, either. I couldn't allow myself to." He held Alexander tightly, not wanting to let go. He felt Alexander kiss his cheek lightly and he sniffed again. It was then that he felt his throat starting to become blocked. It was tears; it was something else. He soon realised that his fever was getting worse and that he may only have a few days or hours. Suddenly, he coughed violently. There was no blood but it was very uncomfortable, both to hear and to experience. And, when he had heard Hephaestion cough loudly, Alexander was once again struck with the realisation that his greatest friend was ill. Very ill. "You are not even an old man," Alexander observed as he shook his head sadly.

"That does not matter. My life so far has been full of excitement and interest, and that is thanks to you. I will die a happy man."

Alexander fought back the many tears. "You're not going to die..."

"You will live your life, Alexander. You will go on living," Hephaestion said and the thought of his closest friend brought happiness into his mind.

Alexander, however, shook his head. "I will not go on living. Achilles met his end moments after Patroclus met his. I owe you that honour."

"No, Alexander. You owe me nothing, do not say that you do. The story of Achilles is a fable."

"Hephaestion..." Alexander began slowly, almost cautiously.

Hephaestion looked up at Alexander and said, "I'm scared, Alexander."

"Don't be," he said softly as he put his hand on Hephaestion's tanned arm.

"Help me not to be," Hephaestion added, his voice sounding rather desperate.

"Do not be scared," Alexander said calmly. "You have nothing to fear. I am with you. Just as you said. We will always be with each other."

Hephaestion smiled at that. He almost found it hard to believe that the same man who had killed thousands of Persians and Greeks could be saying these words, regardless of the fact that he had known Alexander since they were both twelve.

"Please, don't be scared," Alexander added.

"I will not now, I don't think," Hephaestion replied softly.

A soldier came into the room. He was Macedonian. "Sir?" He said, addressing Alexander.

Alexander wondered why he hasn't bothered to even knock but at this moment, he wasn't really all that bothered. He looked up at the soldier.

"We need advice on drawing up plans for the expedition to India," the young soldier stated.

"That can wait," Alexander said nonchalantly.

The soldier stared at him blankly for a moment before bowing respectfully to his king and to Hephaestion also, and then left.

Alexander and Hephaestion were now alone again. Alexander turned his attention back to Hephaestion and saw that his eyes were closed. "Hephaestion?" He asked quietly.

When he didn't get a response, he asked again, louder, "Hephaestion?"

His companion's eyes opened slowly and looked at him. Alexander could see that his condition was definitely getting worse. "Not now, Hephaestion," he said quietly. "Not now."

Hephaestion opened his mouth and wet his lips. "My time has come. The gods have decided my fate."

"It is the wrong decision," Alexander said bitterly.

Hephaestion stared, wide-eyed, at his king; his friend.

Alexander looked fondly at Hephaestion and tried to neaten his matted hair. It had once been so vibrant but now it was a completely different story. He bent over and kissed Hephaestion's lips softly. He could still smell the faint scent of alcohol on Hephaestion's warm breath. Alexander didn't care about the smell though. "Perhaps it is my fault that you are like this," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" Hephaestion asked him curiously.

"It is my fault you are stricken with this illness. The wine-"

"No," Hephaestion interrupted. "Don't blame yourself."

"And the battles. Maybe your wounds-"

Hephaestion cut him off, once again. "My wounds are minor. My wounds from Granicus are healed. I have sustained no severe injuries since then. It is not your fault, Alexander."

Alexander furrowed his brow and then sighed. He looked around the room quickly for no real reason and then looked back at his friend.

Hephaestion was no struggling to keep his eyes open. His voice was now reduced to only a slight croak and he couldn't really think straight. He was tired and almost delirious.

Alexander slipped his hands around the nape of Hephaestion's neck, cradling his head. Studying the perfect features which made up the face of his close friend. He looked at the perfect blue eyes and the dark hair. The flowing, shoulder-length hair. It had once been so full and so fresh yet now, it seemed as though the majority of the life of his hair was now gone. Alexander smiled thinly and smooth Hephaestion's hair. It still bore the pleasant scent which had always been there.

"Alexander..."

"Don't speak if it pains you too much," Alexander said.

Hephaestion ignored him. "I love you, don't forget that. Please."

"I will be with you always, Hephaestion. Achilles joins Patroclus, you know that. Soon, I will join you." Alexander wanted to say more but he knew Hephaestion already knew that he would concur with that statement. Theirs was a special kind of love. It more or less was both platonic and romantic. Instead, he kissed Hephaestion on the lips and he felt Hephaestion return the kiss. But after a few moments, he felt it no more. He opened his eyes and saw that the light in Hephaestion's eyes had gone out. They were now dull and unfocused. His body was now limp and unmoving. Alexander touched Hephaestion's neck with his finger and felt no pulse. He put his head to his chest and listened desperately for the beating sound of his heart but no sound came. No movement, nothing.

It was then that Alexander let out a loud, deep cry and hit Hephaestion's lifeless body with his fist, angrily. "Hephaestion..." he whispered. "No..." This time he yelled.

He prayed to the gods for his friend to come back to him and, at last, he felt the same way he guessed Achilles would've felt when Patroclus died.

"Hephaestion..." he shouted at the top of his lungs, tears clouding his eyes and choking his throat.

He let out a terrible howl and wept almost uncontrollably. The guards on the other side of the door hear his sobs and charged into the room, sensing some sort of distress. They saw their powerful king lamenting greatly over the loss of his great friend. They tried to pull Alexander away from Hephaestion's lifeless body but Alexander would not leave.

The door opened and, for a moment, Alexander thought that it was Roxana. He was barely able to look away from the body of his best friend, until he finally managed to allow himself to do so. He lifted his head up and wiped his eyes. He saw that Bagoas was standing by the door. Bagoas walked over to Alexander gingerly and said to him softly, "Sire…" He began slowly and cautiously.

Alexander let out another almost uncontrollable sob and studied the slave-boy carefully. "Leave me," he said simply.

Bagoas ignored his king's request and instead, continued to walk over to him. "My king, I am sorry," he said gently.

Alexander looked up at him and tried to control his tears. He swallowed.

Bagoas noticed that the king was still clutching Hephaestion's limp hand. He was jealous. He knew that the king did not love him. Alexander's love was for Hephaestion and Roxana, not for him. However, he cared for him deeply. Ever since Alexander had rescued him from his previous master, the now dead Darius III of Persia. "Sire, I'm sorry," he said again, not knowing what else he could say.

The king looked up and said to him slowly, "Bagoas, I appreciate your presence, but please… leave me."

"I do not wish to leave you in this way," Bagoas said innocently.

"I do not want to speak to anyone," Alexander said. He continued to weep like a child.

The Persian slave-boy walked over to his king, so that they were closer. "If that is what you wish, sire," he said bluntly. He was about to leave when he felt the king's hand on his arm. He looked down and saw Alexander's face. His perfect features were practically destroyed by tears and his eyes were red. Bagoas stood there, not knowing what he should do.

"Do not leave," Alexander said softly.

Bagoas cocked a curious and unsure eyebrow. "I do not wish to disturb you and Hephaestion," he said openly. He looked at Alexander once again as the king began to weep over his dead friend.

"It is not right," Alexander said in between sobs.

"It is the will of the Gods, my king."

"Yet another who believes that. This is not right!" Alexander said angrily and confusedly.

Bagoas replied sympathetically, "I, too, think Hephaestion should not have died. And yet, I do not think dwelling on it will make it any better."

Alexander was, for lack of a better word, enraged by this. "You do not tell me how to react!" He yelled at the now terrified boy.

"I am sorry, my lord," Bagoas said, stumbling with his words a little. "It was not my intention to speak out of term."

Alexander saw the Persian boy's upset face and knew that he could stay angry with him any longer. He did not apologise. Instead, he gave Bagoas a look which let the boy know that he was sorry for lashing out.

Bagoas was, in a way, glad for Hephaestion's early passing. He knew that, without that man to distract the king, Alexander would love him more. He was thankful for that. However, his better judgement also shone through. He could quite clearly see how very upset and distraught Alexander was because of his closest friend's death.


	35. Alexander's reaction

CHAPTER 34: 324BC: ALEXANDER'S REACTION 418

"Sire," Bagoas began cautiously as he tentatively walked over to his king.

Alexander looked over at the Persian boy. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.

Bagoas walked over further towards Alexander, so that they were closer. "You must eat," he said firmly.

"Why must I?" Alexander asked Bagoas. He didn't have a reason, himself, why he should be eating.

"You are the king, you must be in excellent condition," Bagoas replied helpfully.

Alexander frowned and then said loudly to the boy, "Why must I eat? I have nothing more to live for."

Bagoas shook his head slowly. "No, sire. You do. What of Macedonia and all her sister kingdoms? And your… wife?" He asked him.

Alexander stood up from his desk and laid down the quill. He had not written anything. He wasn't able to think straight. He knew, deep down, that Bagoas was indeed correct. And yet, he did not want to listen to what he had to say. "I do not want to eat anything, Bagoas," Alexander, however, replied.

"You must, sire," Bagoas stated. "You cannot fall ill," he then added.

Alexander walked over to the boy and said, "I do not care. If I do then I can be with Hephaestion."

Bagoas knew exactly what his king meant by this and he did not like it. "Sire, surely you won't—"

Alexander cut him off, saying, "Bagoas, I understand your concern. And yet, I only want to be with Hephaestion. Why can you not understand that?"

The Persian slave boy wasn't really sure how to respond to that. "I am sorry, sire. But, I do not think your actions now are helping."

Alexander sighed and sat down on the ornate couch. "I don't know what to do, Bagoas."

Bagoas walked over to him, but did not sit beside him. "You will, in time, sire. But now, you must eat."

"I do not want to. I am not hungry," Alexander replied simply. He looked out of the window.

"You need to care for yourself, my lord," Bagoas said. He looked at the king's face and saw that he had not shaved nor washed in quite some time. His once radiantly blonde hair was now looking unkempt and unusually long and thick stubble was starting to form on his cheeks and around his mouth. "You look ill, sire. We cannot risk the public seeing this."

Alexander knew exactly what Bagoas had intended by that. "I will wash later," he replied.

Bagoas tried to smile and he managed to, slightly.


	36. Achilles Joins Patroclus

p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"CHAPTER 35: 323BC: ACHILLES JOINS PATROCLUS 2464/p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Medius hovered outside Alexander's chambers. He had been wondering about whether or not he should enter the room or not. Cassander, who was walking past, caught sight of him. So, being naturally curious, he stopped his stroll short and went over to Medius. "Is there a reason for you to be standing about here?" Cassander asked him in a questioning tone, with a slightly raised eyebrow.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Medius had been in a state of deep thought when the young Cassander had gone over to approach him. He turned to face Cassander, and looked down, as he was quite a bit taller than Cassander, who was quite short and lean. "Sorry?" Medius asked for a clarification as he refocused.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Cassander gave him an odd look. He stared at the confusing man briefly and then he realised what he was meaning to ask Medius. "I said," he stated carefully. "What is it that you are doing here?"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Medius hesitated and then he replied, sounding quite unsure of himself as he did so, "I was wondering if the king wanted to go drinking."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Raising an eyebrow, Cassander stared at him shortly and then said, "Very well, then." He turned on his heel and went back in the direction that he had been walking in before he had been distracted by Medius' strange presence. He went around the corner.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""My king?" Medius called out through the large door, after he had gotten the permission from the guards, who had been eyeing him with much curiosity.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander had been sleeping deeply when Medius had called. He turned over in the bed and kissed the sleeping Roxana on the forehead, before he stumbled onto his feet and pulled on his tunic. He paused, trying to recognise the voice which he had just heard calling his name. "Guards," he called out finally. "Let him in."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The tough looking guards stepped aside and Medius walked into the great room.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What is it, Medius?" Alexander asked tiredly as he held tightly onto his copy of Homer's Iliad. "I have a lot of things to do today. Make it quick, if you can."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Medius took a tentative little step forward. "I am sorry about Hephaestion," he muttered quietly and trying to sound as sympathetic as he possibly could.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander glared at him and Medius could quite clearly see the pain in his eyes. "Don't mention his name," the king said to him quietly, and through gritted teeth.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Sorry, sire," Medius said quickly, almost cutting Alexander's sentence off.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What do you want?" Alexander demanded from him finally, with a sigh and he rubbed his temples wearily.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""There is a drinking party being held. I was wondering if you would like to…?" He trailed off and waited for a response from the king.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander studied him for a short while. "My friend has just died!" He yelled at him angrily. "The last thing I want to do is get drunk!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I apologise, sire," Medius said rapidly as he began to back out of the room.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander did not stop him. He went over to the window and hoped that he would join Hephaestion soon.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Yet another knock at the door became apparent to him. The guards, who were standing, as always, on the other side of the room, opened the door swiftly. Bagoas was on the other side. "Sire?" The guards said quietly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander spun around, his hair flicking as he did so, and he faced the guards. "Yes, yes," he said tiredly. "Let him in."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Bagoas nodded at the guards thankfully and then he slowly went into the room. "Alexander?" He began rather reproachfully.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What now, Bagoas?" Alexander asked him impatiently.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""The men, sire…" Bagoas said gingerly. "They are worried about you. "You have hardly been seen in public since… Hephaestion's funeral."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Stop talking about him!" Alexander shouted at him angrily, and then he broke down in tears.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Bagoas put a comforting hand on Alexander's shoulder. "No, Alexander. You have to accept that Hephaestion is gone. As long as you think of him, though, he will be alive. Remember that."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander stared at him with empty, almost nearly lifeless eyes and he sniffed quietly. "I don't want to think about him, and yet, every one of my thoughts is for him! I can't think about him."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""It is right to grieve, Alexander," Bagoas said.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I don't want to, Bagoas!" Alexander shot back at him. "I have let so many people down. Parmenion, Philotas, Cleitus, Callisthenes, and now, Hephaestion! Even poor old Bucephalus. It is all my fault."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Bagoas hesitated slightly and then he embraced the king with his small frame. "Just, please, Alexander. Do something!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What am I supposed to do?" Alexander asked him.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I do not know, my king," Bagoas said sorrowfully. "But… I have heard that Medius is organising a party. Perhaps you should attend."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander frowned heavily. "Medius? That wretch!" He said, scoffing. "I can't drink my sorrows away, Bagoas."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""No, but you need to think of something else. It will be the end of you," he said carefully. "If you stay locked up in here for the rest of your life."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander went to the drinking party, but Cassander and Perdiccas stayed with him for the entire duration of the bout. There were many beautiful dancing women, and Cassander had certainly gotten his fair share of their attention, which got on Perdiccas' nerves greatly. Alexander, too, being the king, had also been the subject of their advances, but he simply looked the other way and ignored all of them.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Suddenly, Medius staggered over to them. "Hey, Alexander?" He called out drunkenly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander lifted his head up and looked at Medius. The man's hair was ruffled and he smelt strongly of wine. "What?" Alexander asked him impatiently, being annoyed.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""You should drink," Medius said, slurring his words as he spoke to him. He passed over to the king a huge jug of wine.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander stared at the large pot for quite some time. He then heard his companions calling for him to drink the powerful substance, so he lifted it up to his lips and drank the whole of it. Being Macedonian wine, it was very strong and unmixed. As soon as he had swallowed just a small amount of it, the alcohol had begun to take effect. His eyes started to almost dance around the room and everyone near to him seemed to go out of focus.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Perdiccas stared at him in horror and then he tried to prize the jug away from the king. "Alexander?" He said loudly, shaking him. "We should take you home."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander pushed him away and staggered over to Cassander, who was quite busy with a Persian woman, who he had been talking to earlier. Cassander stared at his king and signalled for Perdiccas to come over to him, which he quickly did. They each took one of Alexander's muscular arms and carried him over to the couch. The king closed his eyes, but opened them again and the eyelids fluttered slightly. He mumbled something that was almost inaudible and then he stretched out his right hand and grabbed the wine which Medius had already been drinking. Alexander took it from him and finished it off. He got up rather unsteadily to his feet and was violently sick on the floor, before passing out and falling onto the couch.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Cassander and Perdiccas each exchanged worried and concerned looks with one another, before they decided to wait for Alexander to finally regain consciousness. After a few hours, and when it was already far into the night, Alexander finally stirred. As soon as they were certain that he was awake, Cassander and Perdiccas hoisted the king up onto his feet.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Where are we going?" Alexander said, slurring his words greatly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Perdiccas looked down at him and frowned. "Home," he replied defiantly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander closed his eyes and then said in a mumbling tone, "No, no…"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Yes," Cassander argued back as he adjusted his grip on the king.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""No," Alexander murmured as he shook his head slowly. "I have to go to the baths."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Perdiccas rolled his eyes and he and Cassander took the king to the baths, where they left him with the maidservants, who looked as confused and alarmed as they did.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"When Alexander woke up, he was lying on the side of the main baths. He looked down at his body and was relieved when he saw that someone had had the decency to cover him up with their chlamys. He stood up and wrapped the chlamys around his waist tightly, praying to Zeus that it wouldn't come loose and drop to his feet. He staggered around the bathhouse and realised that his forehead was getting hot. Nevertheless, with some perseverance, he wandered back to his and Roxana's quarters.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Alexander!" Roxana cried as she watched her husband as he staggered into the room and flopped down onto the bed with an almighty thud. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" She said despairingly as she turned him over on the bed and looked at his face.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander looked back at her and mumbled, "My head…"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Roxana stroked his hair and felt his forehead. "You're burning up," she said, sounding scared. She called for the physician and the old man came running as fast as his frail legs could carry him. He studied Alexander briefly and then replied to her, "He has a fever."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""I know that!" Roxana cried angrily. "Help him! Don't let him end up like Hephaestion… please!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The physician nodded, knowing very well that he really could not answer back to the queen, and he gave Alexander a pasty substance, which the king ate with a disgusted look on his face.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""What was that?" Roxana asked nervously.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The physician turned around to face her. "It was just herbs, do not worry."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""We'll have to carry him on the couch," Cassander said grimly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Leonnatus looked at him oddly. "Carry him? Surely you cannot be serious?"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Cassander gave him a smile which told Leonnatus that he was indeed serious.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Perdiccas went over to them and he, Cassander and Leonnatus carried Alexander's awake, yet not really moving body over onto one of the ornate couches of the royal household. They then hoisted the couch onto their shoulders and the brought the couch, as Alexander had instructed them to do so, over to the temple. There, Alexander made his sacrifices as he usually did.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Cassander, hoping that Alexander would not have noticed, took an apple out of the basket of fruit which had been given to the gods as an offering and he proffered it in Alexander's direction. "Sire," he said impatiently and worriedly. "You must eat."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander took the apple from him and studied it deeply, before he finally brought it to his parched lips and took a bite out of it.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Nearchus, a navarch in Alexander's almighty army, came to visit the king as he lay in his quarters. "The voyage to Arabia, my lord," Nearchus said to his king as he looked at him. "When should it begin?" He asked him.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander tried to sit up in the bed, but his elbow quickly gave way and he had to remain in a reclining position on the bed. He turned his head to face Nearchus. "In… a week," he replied in between coughs and splutters. "I should think."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Sire," Nearchus said carefully as he stood up and stood at Alexander's bedside. "Why are you ill?" He asked quietly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander smiled through thin lips. "It is the wine, Nearchus," he said quietly, although he himself was not particularly convinced with that answer. "Although, Cassander does have his own ideas."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Nearchus looked at the king and then he nodded his head slowly. It was true, Cassander had said all sorts of things about why Alexander was in such a bad way. 'It could be anything, could it not? A fever, the excessive drinking, maybe even poison,' he had remembered Cassander telling him only the day before. "Regardless of what it is," Nearchus said as he made for the door. "I am sure you will be well within a few days." He then left and Alexander smiled.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Nearchus?" Alexander called out to him just as the man was an inch away from the door. "Get Bagoas," he said.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Nearchus looked back over at the king and then he nodded. Minutes later, Bagoas came rushing into the room in which Alexander lay. "Oh, Alexander!" He said, sighing heavily. "Your fever… it has gotten worse!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander smiled grimly through thin lips. "I know, Bagoas," he muttered solemnly. "I know."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""But," Bagoas said and he watched in horror as Alexander eyes closed. "You'll be fine, I know you will."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The king opened his eyes slowly and looked around the room. "I am scared, Bagoas," he said quietly, feeling embarrassed wit himself.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;""Don't be, my king," Bagoas said softly as he stroked Alexander's hair and looked into his odd, yet mesmerising eyes. "You were up and well only a week ago. You will feel much the same in a few days. I promise," Bagoas said gently and defiantly. He clasped Alexander's hands between his.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Then, Alexander opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, but he closed it. Bagoas, thinking that he was well and truly gone, ran out of the room and yelled out loudly, "The king!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Roxana, who had been standing outside, beaten with worry, ran into the room, and Perdiccas, Nearchus, Cassander and Leonnatus were quick to follow. Roxana flung herself down on top of Alexander. She took his hand and put it to her belly. "Your child, Alexander!" She cried to him, and the king wearily turned to face her. "He will never know his father! Please, just four more months! Please!"p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Cassander, pulled her off of him and went over to Alexander. "Who is to have your kingdom?" He asked him quietly.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Alexander's eyes flickered over to him. He caught sight of Craterus, who was standing in the corner staying unusually quiet and seemed as though he was thinking Alexander would say his name. Remembering how the man had treated Hephaestion all those years ago, Alexander turned his head and looked at the people in the room. He was going to give his kingdom to Hephaestion, or his son, but Hephaestion was dead and his son was not even born yet.p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"So, with one last final breath, Alexander spoke the words which would confuse everyone in the room, "To the best."p  
>p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"As everyone gasped amongst themselves and Roxana moaned and cried lamentably for the man who was not just the king, but her husband and their unborn child's father, one person was quiet and thoughtful. That person was Cassander. Achilles has joined Patroclus, he thought to himself fondly.p 


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